


Truly an Artist

by Forbidden_Tomatoes (Promiscuous_Pidge)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist's Block, Artists, Background Relationships, Blood, Car Wrecks, Emotional Trauma, M/M, Romano's Filthy Vocabulary, Scars, Secrets, Stress, some NSFW: nudity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Promiscuous_Pidge/pseuds/Forbidden_Tomatoes
Summary: Having already completed college, Lovino Vargas lives in Madrid as an artist suffering from severe artist's block. In one of his visits to his old school he runs into a new teacher, Antonio Fernández Carriedo, who decides he'll be the one to help Lovino in his endeavor to find himself. However cheerful and optimistic, Lovino still feels there's more to Antonio than he's letting on.





	1. Running in the Hallway

**Author's Note:**

> This story is actually my first multi-chapter fanfic, and I have a great feeling about it. I hope you all enjoy it to the end!

His hand carefully led the brush through its final stroke. The canvas had been thoroughly and meticulously layered with various paints over the past several hours. The picture it made up wasn't exactly a masterpiece, but it was something. One little touch up in the center, and it would be finished…

…until he jumped at the slam of a door. Lovino looked in horror at the painting. A new bright yellow smear now presented itself loud and clear atop the delicate lilac flowers. He turned on his stool to fully see his intruder. There stood none other than the one who allowed him to use the space in the first place—the only person outside his family he really talked to, Guido Moretti. Friend or not, Lovino still glared daggers at the man, who seemed to pay no mind.

"Hey, Lovino," he greeted with a bright smile. Lovino could see he was out of breath, most likely from angering a professor again. His friend had a history of barging into certain classrooms to take pictures. Every time, he was interrupting some important lecture. And every time, he would respond to the giggling girls and off-put instructors with, "I'm sorry, but your window has the absolute best view of the city," and soon was either dragged out or yelled at. This time, it seems one professor had had enough and gave chase. Lovino scoffed at his friend's antics, not bothering to reply as he let his anger begin to ebb away.

Guido pulled up a stool and gracelessly swung a leg over it. It seemed to Lovino he had at least regained some of his composure as he was now studying the painting. _The painting that he made me ruin,_ Lovino thought bitterly. Guido nodded, his brow furrowed. "I like what you did with the, uh, yellow."

"Thanks," Lovino replied with an added eye roll. "I would've preferred for it to stay on the vase, but you apparently didn't want it that way." He gestured to the door.

Guido looked back and forth between the ruined flowers and the door a few times before mouthing a small "oh".

Lovino's glare returned, a look that many said could kill. Guido laughed nervously and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, have you met the new art history professor yet? I hear he's already really famous with the students." He propped his elbow up on his knee and rested his chin on his palm, already brushing off the incident as if it were nothing; As if he hadn't just ruin Lovino's hard work. "He actually didn't mind when I went in to take a picture of a few girls. Told him it was for a project I'm working on."

"No I haven't, and I don't plan to." Lovino replied to the question, ignoring the fact that he was the one person in the building who didn't know of his friend's antics yet—he was in for a rude awakening. He turned his attention back to the painting and frowned. The paint was already dry, and he didn't see the point in trying to fix it. _What a waste_. He sighed inwardly. "I'm not even a student here anymore."

True, the only reason he came back to the university was for the extra supplies and equipment that he didn't own himself. Technically, this was Guido's room to keep his photography equipment, but he seemed more than happy to share the space with his college friend. Lovino didn't come here very often, only about once every week or so when he needed to either get out of the house or needed something specific. Today, he had just wanted to paint a vase of flowers on the windowsill he had always found to be a nice addition to the room.

"Aw, come on, you need to socialize with other people aside from me and your brother. He's only a year older than we are, so it's not like you need to talk about Da Vinci with some old dude for six hours." Guido had shifted his stool so that he could lean his back against the wall by the door. "At least tell him hi."

Lovino stood up, transferring the canvas from the easel to his bag as he spoke. "As if I'd waste my time making friends with some popular Spanish guy. I've got better things to do."

"Like painting from the broken side of your house?" Guido deadpanned.

Lovino was tired of explaining the wall to him. "It's got good lighting, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

After packing the rest of the materials he needed alongside the ruined canvas, Lovino swung the bag haphazardly onto his shoulder and gave a curt wave to his lounging friend. "Ciao. And try not to get into too much trouble this week, okay? I don't need another interrogation about the class pet they found in my bag."

"No promises," was the reply he got. And with that he closed the door to the small room and started his way down the empty hallway.

He was nearly rounding a corner when someone slammed into his chest, sending him flying backwards onto the ground. He heard a groan from the other person—a man—and immediately scowled and rubbed his back. "What the fuck are you doing running around corners for?" Lovino asked, not even trying to conceal the edge to his voice. "You knocked us _both_ over!" The other man sat up, throwing quick apologies.

When he finally looked up, they instantly locked eyes. The Spaniard paused for a split second and shook his head. " _Lo siento_ , where are my manners, let me help you." He stood up and extended his arm for Lovino to take, which he did after a moment of hesitation. He was still pissed off at this man and already wasn't in the mood for any sort of barriers keeping him from heading home. Watching as this stranger picked up his bag for him, he was ready to take it and quickly back out of this awkward situation. But, to his annoyance, the man held out his hand again. "My name is Antonio Fernández Carriedo, the new art history professor here." He offered a bright smile.

 _So_ this _is the bastard people keep talking about?_ He gave him a quick once-over. To Lovino he didn't seem like anything special. A young man with a normal brown suit, unruly brown hair, and bright, friendly-looking emerald green eyes. He seemed unusually cheerful for a man who had to teach college students all day.

Lovino realized he was standing and staring at Antonio, so he took his hand and shook it. "Lovino Vargas. Just visiting."

A curious look appeared on Antonio's face. "Oh, you're not a student here?"

"I graduated two years ago, if you really have to know." Lovino was constantly being asked about his classes here and it was beginning to get on his nerves. He decided it was time to end their little session and grabbed his bag as he began to take a few steps backwards. "Look, I have somewhere to be right now, so I'll be off." He turned around, looking over his shoulder as he walked. "And word of advice, don't run in the hallway."

He managed to make it all the way to the front door without looking back, but when he did, he could see the Spaniard still standing at the corner across the hallway. He sighed and pushed the door open. There was something about the way he acted, the way he spoke.

 _There was something odd hidden in those eyes,_ he thought, walking away from the strange man and the building.


	2. Just in Case

The drive home wasn't very eventful. The same buildings passed by that eventually gave way to trees, which thinned out as he continued his drive out into seemingly the middle of nowhere. Lovino's gaze spanned the road before him, instinctively looking out for any oncoming traffic. He had been behind the wheel for almost an hour now and the fatigue was building up behind his eyes. He shook his head to keep himself awake before turning onto an almost unnoticeable dirt road. He increased speed with the knowledge that only two other people lived there and he would likely not run into them and soon came to a small cluster of cottages. Parking his car in front of the last one, he trudged inside after fumbling with the keys for several agonizingly long moments. He just wanted to sleep, dammit, why did it have to be so difficult to open a stupid door?

Inside, he brushed past unfinished and forgotten paintings, paying no mind to the horrible state the place was in. He never did bother to clean up the clutter that accumulated over time.

He soon made it to the back, where his bed sat waiting for him against the far wall. Yanking off his shirt, he immediately fell onto the bed's inviting surface, feeling grateful for the soft material and the darkness that was beginning to take over his senses. In his last moments of consciousness, unable to filter the images flashing through his mind, Lovino thought of a pair of striking green eyes, and what it would be like to capture them on canvas.

* * *

 

Almost two weeks had passed and Lovino still couldn't turn out a decent painting; and that was only counting the few that he could finish. One such failed attempt had even ended with Lovino's fist through the canvas. Needless to say, he wasn't proud of himself that day.

However, there was one piece which he didn't quite mind. He stared in thought at his own image-a self portrait done in hues of orange-and let out a small hum of approval. Lovino had never been one for portraits, thinking them to be pointless and a waste of time; why would anyone want a painting of a person hanging around, relentlessly staring at them? But, having read several articles on how to relieve yourself of artist's block and begrudgingly asking his younger and more successful brother's advice, he had decided to shove aside his disinterest and painted a self portrait.

His brother, Feliciano Vargas, was an acclaimed artist in their home country, Italy. His work was starting to gain more attention than ever, and while Lovino was proud of him, there was still a twinge of jealousy he felt now and then. In those moments of feeling worthless he tended to blame his brother's success on his cheery personality rather than his actual talent. Everyone who met Feliciano was instantly captivated by his cute smile and bubbly personality, and Lovino was usually shoved aside to make room for his admirers. Lovino had long since learned to deal with it, and even he had to admit it was hard to hate his brother. He was just too damn likeable.

Thoughts of his brother aside, Lovino placed the self-portrait on the dining table he rarely used and picked up his keys as well as his art supplies bag. Guido had asked for his help regarding a project about "capturing the college lifestyle" or some bullshit like that. Ever since they were roommates at the university, Guido had dragged him into countless little adventures with his camera, and now that he worked there as one of the photography class assistants he found more opportunities to wreak havoc all around campus. It was a wonder to everyone how he hadn't been banned from hanging around.

Lovino sighed out loud. He knew he was getting himself into something, and it wouldn't be good.

* * *

 

This one time, he hated that he was right.

Camera clutched in sweaty hands, Lovino darted around a corner. "You fucking told me he was okay with it!"

Guido laughed airily, pressing himself against the wall alongside him. "I said you _could_ do it, not that he'd let you!"

The two Italians had gone door to door asking students if they were interested in participating in a photoshoot for Guido's college experience project. Guido had told Lovino that he could take a few test pictures in the classrooms. Not for any particular reason, they had just found an opportunity to take pictures of pretty Spanish girls. He didn't expect to be yelled at by an angry Philosophy professor.

Once they heard the door close, they exchanged looks before bursting into laughing fits. Lovino had to admit he was having a good time, and he had needed it. However their jovial celebration would have to resume later; there were still two more rooms for them to check.

They split up, Lovino taking the room on the right side and Guido the left. He knocked on the door and opened it, fumbling with the camera momentarily as he stepped into the warm classroom. " _Ciao,_ everyone, sorry to interrupt, but I'm helping my friend recruit students who are interested in…" He trailed off. He hadn't bothered to check what classes he entered because it didn't have any relevance to what he was doing, but looking back on it he wished he had. The presentation currently shown against the far wall said it loud and clear on the first slide: _El Romanticismo_. Romanticism. He was in the art history class.

"Oh, Mister Vargas!" A cheery voice called out to him, one that he recognized. It was that Antonio guy, of course. He finished scrawling something down at his desk and then waved. Lovino rolled his eyes. He gave a simple nod in return and continued his rehearsed lines, taking down the names of those students willing to participate. Folding the paper and shoving it back in his pocket, Lovino tried to ignore Antonio's crestfallen expression. It was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Well that's all I needed here, I'll probably see you volunteers after classes today," he said coolly and turned to leave. He winced as he heard Antonio shout for him to wait up. _Oh, what do you want now?_ he thought with a grimace. Turning around, he forced his features to remain neutral as he watched the Spaniard make his way quickly over to him.

Antonio stood in front of him with the same wide grin he showed him last time. Lovino realized to his disappointment that he was several inches shorter than the other man.

"I wanted to officially apologize that me running into you had to be our first meeting," he started. "I was thinking, could I maybe make it up to you in some way?" Hope gleamed in his emerald eyes, and Lovino could easily tell that Antonio was a man who usually got what he asked for.

"No thanks, it's fine. I don't need you to do anything, so just get back to teaching your class." He turned to leave again but Antonio grabbed his elbow in a seemingly frantic attempt to stop him.

"No, really!" He blurted, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Lovino glared at him, making him let go of him. All the students were staring at that point and a few girls were giggling at them. Antonio's smile quickly made its full comeback. "I could help you carry your art supplies to your car. Or, um, maybe-"

"Look, Antonio." Lovino cut him off. "I'm sure you're a very nice guy, but you really shouldn't think you need to repay me for something as stupid as knocking me down in a hallway." He looked over Antonio's shoulder at all the students gazing back at them. "And I really do have to leave."

Antonio stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed. "Alright, if you insist." He sounded resigned. Taking his hands out again, he gave Lovino a firm handshake. He could've sworn he saw Antonio wink at him, but told himself he was simply imagining things. It was then that he realized there was something left in his hand when he took a step back and exited the room.

The door closed again and the hallway was immediately silent. Lovino look down at his hand and sighed a very audible sigh.

The damn bastard had just given him his phone number, an added little message scribbled underneath saying, "Just in case."

"Oohh, just in case what?" Guido's sudden appearance made Lovino jump in surprise. His friend was too good at sneaking up behind people; Lovino hadn't even heard him close the door. As Lovino stuttered an attempt at a reply, Guido smiled widely. "These girls just keep throwing themselves at us, huh?" He pulled out a few slips of paper from his pocked. "I've gotten three already."

Lovino sighed. "Oh, uh, yeah." Why the hell was he flustered by all of this? It was just some dumb guy thinking he could worm his way into spending time with him, and it's not like Lovino would give him that satisfaction. He shoved the paper into his pocket, determined to forget about it.

* * *

 

The rest of the day passed without any incidents. Guido's photoshoot earned itself many volunteers, most of them girls, and Lovino stayed to help wrap everything up from the day once it was all over.

It was only until Lovino was making his way down the school hallway with his hands in his pocket that he was reminded of the small slip of paper still nestled there. Taking it out, he examined it closely. Antonio's handwriting wasn't the greatest, but Lovino realized that he had probably written it at his desk when he had first walked in, so it was a bit rushed. But he had written "Just in case", so how had he known Lovino would say no? _I'm not_ that _easy to read,_ he thought. _At least I hope I'm not…_

He stopped outside Antonio's classroom. Having nothing else to do but bring his things to his car from Guido's spare room, he brought out his phone from his back pocket. He figured he had to get the Spaniard to forget about him sooner or later and dialed the number on the paper. He wasn't surprised that he only had to wait a few short seconds for Antonio to answer with a typical phone greeting asking who was calling.

He didn't bother introducing himself as he replied. "So would you leave me alone if I let you help me with something?" he asked, all the while staring at the closed door. He was sure the professor was still in there as many of them stayed a while after their lectures ended.

"Oh, Lovino! I can call you that, right?" Not waiting for a reply, he continued, "Of course! Yeah, whatever you want, I just want to help in some way."

 _Is this guy serious?_ Lovino thought, slightly caught off guard. Antonio really was trying to repay him for that stupid little accident.

"Lovino?"

"Um, yeah. I need help bringing things to my car. You suggested earlier that you could do that, right?" Lovino shifted his weight to his left side, trying to look casual for when Antonio would see him. There was no need to look stiff or nervous, he reasoned.

"No problem, _mi amigo_ , I'll be right there. Where are you?" Lovino looked up to see Antonio open his door and paused. "Oh, there you are." He hung up and flashed a grin. "So, where to? Is it far?"

"You're making it sound like we're on a date," Lovino grumbled in reply. "And no, it's not far. Just around a few corners."

"Well then, lead the way!" He made sure his door was locked and followed as Lovino led him to the small room.

"Alright, grab those canvases over on the desk. We're trying to clear our this room before the end of the semester and most of this crap is mine, anyway. There are more in the cabinets, but get those first." Lovino gestured to the ten or so canvases lying untouched on the desk by the window. They had all been done around two months ago and he hadn't bothered to take them home until now. Antonio nodded and began to straighten them. Lovino noticed he had stopped to stare at one and walked over, peeking over his shoulder to see. "The hell are you already stopping for?"

Antonio took a few moments to reply. "Sorry, it's just that this is really good. You made this?" He turned to face Lovino, his eyes gazing curiously into his.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. " _Sì,_ I did. But it's just a painting of an old treehouse I used to play in a lot as a kid. And it's not _that_ good, so don't even try flattery on me."

Antonio seemed to falter. "You don't think you're a good artist, do you?" Lovino shrugged.

"What's it to you?" He asked. "A lot of people don't."

"It's just sad when people with a lot of talent can't see what they have for themselves, that's all," he replied, going back to stacking canvases into neat little piles.

Lovino was left standing still. Not many people had ever really complimented his work. But the way Antonio seemed to change moods every time he blinked made Lovino grit his teeth in aggravation. _What in the hell is with this guy?_ He shook the thought from his head and decided it was something to think about another day; there was still work to be done here.

Fifteen minutes passed before they finished organizing and packing Lovino's things, his supplies varying from palette knives to canvas covers. Now all they had to do was bring it all to his car.

"So, where's your car?" Antonio asked cheerfully, as if reading his mind.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Do you want coordinates or will you shut your mouth and stop asking me where things are? I know where my damn car is, so just follow me." Lovino huffed, his level of annoyance spiking dangerously again. Seeing Antonio frown a little at his little outburst, he sighed and spoke in a softer tone. "Let's just go. I don't have a cart or anything so we might have to make a few trips."

Antonio seemed to take that as somewhat of an apology and brightened up a little as he slung a bag of paints over his shoulder and carried another of paintbrushes. Both loading up on as much as they could carry, they set out for Lovino's car.

Halfway there, Antonio tried to break the silence. "So, you're Italian, right?"

"I am, if it wasn't obvious," Lovino replied. "I moved here 6 years ago because I wanted to do my own thing and become an artist." Not saying any more, Antonio apparently took the silence as a cue to speak.

"And how old are you? If that's an okay question to ask."

Lovino huffed indignantly. "What am I, some old lady ashamed that she's not 18? I'm 25, asshole."

To his surprise, Antonio simply smiled. "Oh, really? I'm 26! We're almost the same age."

"Why do you have to sound so happy about the most insignificant things?" Lovino was surprised when he heard his voice. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Antonio just laughed that insufferable laugh, as if Lovino had told a joke.

"Well why not? It doesn't hurt anyone to be a little more cheerful sometimes. It seems to me that my students could use a bit of joy in their daily school routine." Antonio turned his head to face Lovino, directing his smile at him.

Lovino stared at him for a few moments but turned his attention back to the hallway. "Have you considered that it might piss some people off?" They reached the front door and Antonio set down one of his bags to hold the door open for Lovino.

"And why would it?" He asked. They resumed walking, and Lovino snuck a glance at him. He looked as if he already knew the answer.

"Because it can get to be too much for any person to handle. Too much happy isn't a good thing, Antonio."

Antonio turned his eyes to look ahead of them. Lovino wondered if he was purposefully trying not to make eye contact now. "And do I piss you off, Lovi?"

Lovino scowled at the nickname. He hated when people called him that ever since his brother came up with it when they were kids. "I was about to say maybe, but now the answer is definitely yes." Antonio laughed again.

Lovino pulled his keys from his pocket and listened for the click as he unlocked his car. "Just put everything in the trunk, and save room for the other few bags." They had been able to carry more on the initial trip than Lovino had anticipated, and he was relieved to see they would only need to go back one more time. "After we finish this you're free to go."

To his surprise, Antonio looked upset, though Lovino could tell he was trying to conceal it.

"Are you sure? You still have to take all this out at your house and bring it inside. I can go with you to help." There was a small glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

Lovino hesitated. He had only known the Spaniard for a short time and he already knew enough about him to know he wasn't one to give up easy. Sighing, he crossed his arms, deciding to try to let him off anyway. "I don't think that's such a good idea," he started. "I live pretty far away and I can handle things myself." But he found himself in a position he couldn't get out of when Antonio stood taller and gave him a firm look.

"No, I'm still helping you with this. I don't like abandoning things halfway through, and I'm not about to start doing so now." Antonio spoke with a stern voice that Lovino thought could also be interpreted as a stubborn child making himself clear on what he wanted.

Knowing he wouldn't get his way if he liked it or not, Lovino grumbled a small "fine", and Antonio's face instantly lit up.

It was going to be a long car ride.


	3. Morning Coffee

"Watch out!"

Tires screeched on asphalt. "I think I know how to fucking drive, so stop trying to grab the damn wheel!"

For the third time that car ride, Antonio had panicked and attempted to take over the responsibility of driving. Lovino didn't know what he was doing to make him flip out—his driving was perfectly fine. He puffed his cheeks in annoyance. "What's gotten into you?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice.

Lovino heard Antonio take a deep breath. "Sorry, it's just…you drive a little crazy."

Lovino glared at him, to which Antonio quickly responded by taking hold of Lovino's head and turning it back to face the road.

"Okay, that's it. Take out your phone, sing a song, construct an entire building in your mind, I don't care, just find a way to distract yourself from directing my life right now."

Antonio sighed and hummed momentarily in thought. "How about we tell each other a little about ourselves?" he suggested.

"Are you trying to make me do one of those shitty bonding exercises?"

"Yes, I am."

Lovino could practically hear Antonio's grin, and he soon gave in. "Fine. It's a long ride, so it's better than nothing. And if it'll get you to let _me_ be the one responsible for watching the road, count me in."

"That's the spirit! Sort of." Antonio seemed to take on a more relaxed demeanor as he relaxed his shoulders and slouched into the seat. "I'll go first. I originally wanted to be an artist, but I was no good at it. But I had always found history really interesting, so mix the two together and I found my passion!" Lovino could see out of the corner of his eye that his expression was asking him to make some sort of comment. He wasn't sure, but he sensed there was a hint of desperation hidden behind it.

"Well that's a nice story, I guess," was all he could think to say.

Antonio let out a soft chuckle. "Your turn. Tell me something about you."

Lovino sighed. "I'm better than you at art," he said, earning a loud bout of laughter from Antonio.

"No, no, something about _you_ ," he said between laughs. "Something that I don't already know."

He hummed a moment, temporarily lost in his thoughts. Then something popped into his mind and he allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk up in a faint smirk. "Shocking or family related?" Either would get him to shut up.

A flash of fear went through Antonio's features and Lovino couldn't help but laugh at him. "Don't worry, I didn't kill anyone." That seemed to help him calm down. _As if I look like a murderer,_ he mused.

"Okay then, hit me with your shocking fact," he soon replied.

With his eyes still trained on the road so as not to cause Antonio to panic again, Lovino tried to keep an eye on his face using his peripheral vision. "Alright. I lost a toe eight years ago. I only have nine now." By the look on Antonio's face, Lovino could swear he had just told him he had three days to live.

"You _lost_ a _toe?"_ he repeated, seemingly dumbfounded. "How the heck did that happen? Did you drop something on it? Did it get cut off by a saw? D-did someone do it to you?" Antonio's face was pale, and he looked to be on the verge of fainting as he continued shooting out absurd theories. Was he disgusted, or was he just worried about Lovino's well-being?

"Calm down, for fuck's sake, I'm _fine!_ " Lovino had to nearly shout to make himself heard over Antonio's ramblings. "I was in an accident, my little toe on my left foot got infected from one of my injuries, and it had to be amputated. It's really not that bad, and I can still function like I used to. It just looks a bit weird. I broke just about every other bone in my body, though. I was in a coma for several weeks. But the doctors said I was really lucky to not have died; if I was in any other position during the crash I most likely wouldn't have gotten off so easy."

Antonio went quiet for a while, making Lovino a little uncomfortable. _Did I say something to upset him?_ he wondered to himself. _That did sound like a bit much,_ he reasoned.

He adjusted to the silence after a few minutes. Lovino couldn't bring himself to say any more in worry of actually causing Antonio to faint or be sick, and he really didn't want to have to deal with that. A small voice caught his attention, though he couldn't make sense of the words. "What?" he asked.

"Sorry," Antonio said, louder this time. "I don't do too well with hearing about injuries." He offered an apologetic smile.

Lovino nodded slowly. " _Mi dispiaci_ , I didn't mean to…to make you upset," he apologized in somewhat of an awkward manner. "Okay, subject change, then."

"Good idea." Antonio took a deep breath and relaxed his features. At least he wasn't noticing when Lovino took his eyes off the road anymore. He placed his elbow on the armrest and rested his chin on his palm, a small yet easy smile making its way back to show Lovino. He noticed that it wasn't the same kind of smile as before; he knew solemnity when he saw it.

_Shit, I really did say something wrong._

"So, Lovino, how much longer do we have left until we reach home?" Antonio asked, snapping him back to reality.

Lovino scoffed. "Don't say 'home' like it's yours. And it's only about 15 more minutes."

The next several minutes were spent gazing out at the open space ahead of them. Lovino found it never looked quite the same from day to day, and it was one of the many things he loved about the area. The sun would cast it's rays from a different perspective, choosing to focus more on specific places or span the entire surface. The grass would dance to the roar of vehicles passing by or stand idly by. Colors exploded, dulled, just stood plain and stagnant on some days. This particular day was leaving him contentedly tired, and Lovino found he was smiling despite himself. He had always found tranquility in the moments people tended to overlook. In his state of peace he had nearly forgotten about the Spaniard sitting in his passenger seat.

Nearly.

"Lovi?"

"Lovino, asshole."

"Sorry-Lovino?"

"What?"

"How am I getting home?"

The silence was back.

Lovino groaned. "Fuck, I forgot about that." He hadn't taken into account that it would be late before Antonio would have to go home, and they only had Lovino's car at their disposal. "You might have to sleep on my couch tonight."

Antonio chuckled, not appearing to be bothered by the fact that he would have to stay overnight at a man's house who he had only just met two weeks prior. He was a really trusting person, wasn't he?

Lovino rolled his eyes at him. "Don't laugh now, it's not a very comfortable couch."

"That's fine, I can manage," Antonio replied casually. "Thank you, though. For letting me stay." He sounded sincere enough, and Lovino hoped he wouldn't come to regret this decision.

"Well I don't want throwing a man out into the dark in the middle of nowhere being on my conscience, so just take this as a friendly gesture."

He turned the car onto the nearly hidden dirt road without another word.

It wasn't long before they arrived at Lovino's little home. It was late, and coincidentally their surroundings were shrouded in a somewhat bothersome blanket of darkness. Lovino couldn't tell if Antonio couldn't see the place or just decided not to speak his thoughts on it.

He still hadn't spoken anything-at least Lovino hadn't heard him say anything-when he opened the door and flipped on the lights. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Antonio's features pulling into a small grimace. _I know it's a mess, but damn, no need to go around making faces,_ he thought with an audible huff. He was beginning to feel somewhat embarrassed about the mess.

"Come on, let's go get the things from the car," Lovino spoke through a yawn. "I just wanna get this over with so you can go home tomorrow."

Antonio smiled and nodded, and Lovino noted that he was beginning to look tired too. _Better to get this done quickly, then._

Through a few shared yawns they managed to haul everything from the little car to Lovino's living room. Antonio had raised an eyebrow when Lovino told him to "just put the bags wherever", but shrugged and did as he was told. Lovino could tell he was going to receive some words about keeping his space clean eventually.

Lovino stretched, feeling satisfaction in hearing his back pop in several places. He locked the door for the night and watched as Antonio took a moment to fully gaze around the room. Lovino stood in silence as he did the same.

He frowned at the state of his place; he would have at least tidied things up a little if he'd have known he'd have company. His paintings were on "display", strewn around the floor along the walls. He had meant to find a place for them, but the rate at which he created left him little time nor room to make space. His supplies weren't any better as they were nonchalantly tossed into a box by the dining room table. Nothing in this part of the house had even the slightest bit of order to it.

"Um," Lovino started, snapping Antonio out of his trance, "I'll get you a blanket." Not waiting for a reply, Lovino left the room for the hallway closet. It took a few moments of digging around for him to find a blanket suitable in size and comfort for sleeping on the couch, but Antonio smiled gratefully and took it quickly. He wasted no time in wrapping it around himself and snuggling into the little couch. Lovino almost laughed at how fast his guest made himself comfortable.

"Well, _buona notte_. I'll see you in the morning." Lovino nodded to him in a farewell and began walking in the direction of his room, where sweet, blissful sleep awaited him.

"Lovino?" he heard a soft voice call behind him. He stopped with his hand resting on the doorframe and glanced over his shoulder. Antonio offered him a sleepy yet satisfied smile. He seemed more at peace than Lovino. "I hope you have sweet dreams."

Lovino felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't heard those words in a long, long time.

"Yeah," he replied, "you sleep well, too." He wasted no time in hurrying the hell out of the room.

* * *

Lovino awoke to the heavenly aroma of coffee.

In an almost dreamlike state, he stretched his arms above his head and made his way to the source in the kitchen. His dreary-eyed self was met with a warming smile from a certain Spaniard.

Without exchanging words, Antonio handed Lovino a mug as they both sat down in a comfortable morning silence. Lovino allowed his eyelids to lull back closed and slouched forward, occasionally taking gulps of his coffee. The beverage had always helped to subdue his grouchy mood in the mornings.

The next hour was spent exchanging thoughts and small talk. Lovino had somewhat awkwardly thanked Antonio for making coffee. Several minutes later, Antonio apologized for snooping after he informed Lovino that he had taken a look at some of the paintings scattered about.

"I have to say, you're an amazing artist," Antonio said, awestruck. "It's difficult to come by a person with real talent for expressions and colors. You should really be proud of your work." He punctuated his statement with a small gesture of his hand followed by a long sip of his coffee.

Lovino scoffed. "'Talent', my ass. It's just hard work, that's all."

Antonio looked as if he were about to argue, but simply shrugged and stretched his arms up.

"Well, I should probably get out of your hair sooner or later. I can drive this time, if you don't mind me using your car."

Lovino nodded in agreement in fear he still might be too sleepy to drive, as his eyes were drooping closed periodically. He shook his head in an attempt to wake himself up.

Antonio took both of their mugs and placed them in the kitchen sink. "So is now a good time?"

" _S_ _ì_ ," he replied, "we can-oh, wait!" Lovino stood up and rushed to the living room, digging around through the paintings they brought in the night prior. He returned after several moments of searching, holding a painting to his chest.

"Thank you for helping me," he said. He shuffled his feet and looked away. "I thought, since you liked this one, y'know…" he trailed off. "Just-take it." Lovino turned the canvas around and held it out.

Antonio seemed to freeze in place. Lovino simply stared at him.

"If you don't want the damn thing, it's fine; I don't care."

Antonio shook his head, smiling with tears brimming over his eyes. "I'd be glad to have it." He gingerly took the painting into his hands. It was the one of Lovino's childhood treehouse. " _Gracias_ , Lovino."

Lovino was both touched and shocked. Had he actually brought someone to tears, and in a good way? He realized he was most likely gawking and looking like a complete fool and quickly brought back his scowl.

"No need to cry, it's just a treehouse," he mumbled.

Antonio laughed, a soft and sweet sound. "Sorry, I just really like treehouses." Lovino raised an eyebrow in question. "I'll explain in the car."

"Whatever, just get your shoes and take the keys," was Lovino's impassive reply.

In the hour-long ride it took to reach the center of Madrid and Antonio's apartment, Lovino mostly listened to Antonio talk. He listened in awe to his stories about how his older brother had built a treehouse in their backyard and how it had been their base of operation in countless games of pirate raids and space explorations. He learned how closely they grew up, getting into trouble together and always listening to each other's problems. He listened to how the excitement and nostalgia began to seep out of the Spaniard's tone as he continued talking.

"I was eighteen when I lost him-my only brother. He was driving home from work. I was making dinner." Lovino could see the shadows consuming his face, and he could tell the other man was holding back tears. "I got the call from the hospital, but it was too late. He died almost instantly in the crash." Antonio laughed mirthlessly. "The food I was cooking all burned."

Lovino was speechless. His brother…that explained his reaction to hearing about Lovino's car wreck, and the emotional display about the treehouse. Not to mention his driving skills.

Antonio sighed. "I'm sorry, that was probably a lot to hear about someone you barely know."

"No, no, it's fine," Lovino replied quickly. "I understand that it's a difficult thing to deal with." He did his best to muster up a sympathetic smile, but had no clue if it was received.

Lovino heard him take a shaky breath before responding. "Thank you for listening to me. I needed to say it to someone."

He nodded slowly. "Why me, though? We barely know each other."

"I don't know, really," Antonio admitted. "To me, you feel like a person who is easy to talk to." He paused. "But if you don't mind me saying, I think under that scowl and the barrier you put up around people, you're just a great artist with the potential to become someone worth knowing. And I'm not just referring to the way you use a brush. Don't you dare waste your life thinking you're a person who's not good enough." Lovino watched him for a few moments, searching for any other emotions he might betray. Antonio kept his eyes on the road, face expressionless.

Those words struck a cord somewhere in Lovino's heart in a place layered in dust from standing idly amid the darkness for so long. In the quiet, Lovino gritted his teeth. "You don't even know me, bastard." The statement was almost inaudible. "Don't think you can try to soften me up and use my emotions as a gateway to dictate my life, because it _won't_ happen." His expression hardened. "Not again," he whispered.

Antonio looked startled. _Good,_ thought Lovino. _I don't need you pitying me, too._

"Okay, I took it too far," Antonio said carefully. "Bad habit of mine."

"I don't care, just drive."

Lovino spent the remaining few minutes staring out the side window.


	4. Phone Calls

The moment he was back in the driver's seat, alone, the regret hit Lovino hard in the chest. He knew Antonio was only trying to be a good person, and God knew he needed to hear what he had said.

Lovino sighed dejectedly, starting up his car again. "He's probably gone for good, now," he heard himself say aloud. But he couldn't figure out why he was so upset about it. His bitter outbursts had often sent people packing in a matter of days, same as with this man. He groaned. "Why do I always do this…"

Without realizing where he had been heading, he parked his car near the college campus. _Of course._

Seeing as it was Saturday, Guido would most likely be in their spare room going through his pictures from the week; it was his main opportunity to select his favorites and discard the useless. Lovino suspected he subconsciously ended up here as a result of wanting to talk about the recent events to someone. That someone would be his best friend, whether he damn well liked it or not.

Lovino flung open the door to the small room the moment his hand gripped the handle. He watched with little patience as Guido yelped in surprise and shot up, effectively making him fall off of his stool. The angry Italian didn't apologize, instead making a show of slamming his keys on the small desk by the door.

Guido regained his bearings and stood up. "Woah, Lovino, calm down, stop trying to break my things all the time," he chided. What's got your panties in a twist?"

"He's a fucking asshole, that's what! And so am I!" The confused look on Guido's face led Lovino to take a deep breath. After all, there was no use trying to tell a story in hysterics.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I'll explain."

They both pulled up a stool across from each other, and Lovino began.

"So, I met Antonio," he started slowly. "Yesterday, I ran into him again, and he gave me his number so I could get in touch with him. He wanted to help me clean out the room yesterday," he explained.

"Hold up, you met him? You actually listened to me!" Guido's face beamed. Lovino rolled his eyes in response.

"Yes, I did. Can I continue?" With a nod from his friend, he cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I brought him with me to my house so he could help unload the supplies, too. But, since I'm such a dumbass, I forgot to take into account the fact that it was late at night and we only had my car. And there was no way in hell that I was driving at-"

Guido cut him off by holding a hand up. "Wait, wait. You mean you meet a guy and almost immediately keep him at your house overnight?" He laughed. "Damn, I didn't think you had it in you."

Lovino felt the blood rush to his cheeks instantly. "Not like that!" he exclaimed. "I made him sleep on the couch, bastard, and we barely even said anything to each other. So stop thinking what I know you're thinking."

Guido grinned in response, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Whatever you say," he said in an easygoing tone.

Lovino grumbled to himself and looked away for a few moments, sure that his face was turning an irritating shade of red. "Can I just finish the damn story already?" Guido crossed his legs and nodded, attentive as a kindergartener during storytime.

" _Anyway_ ," Lovino said again, slowly, making apparent the annoyance in his voice. "This morning, when I brought him home, he started talking about himself. Then, when the conversation shifted to me, I shut down. I didn't mean to, but I said some things to piss him off, and now he probably hates my guts." Ending with a sigh, he hung his head in defeat.

Guido gently rested a soft hand on his friend's shoulder. "So why are you mad at him?"

"Because he fucking made me feel like this, that's why!" he exclaimed. The irritated Italian offered an apologetic smile to Guido upon noticing his friend rubbing his ear with a grimace.

"What I think you need is a good distraction," he replied after several long moments of silence. "And I've got just the thing." Guido's smile accompanied him, making a quick comeback as ever, as he reached over to his desk for a somewhat crinkled up flyer.

Lovino took the flyer, eyes darting back and forth from it and his happy friend skeptically. "You want me to enter an art contest? And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

Guido rolled his eyes. "You didn't even read it." He snatched it back, despite the protesting yelp from Lovino.

Clearing his throat in an overly-dramatic manner, Guido began reading the contents of the flyer aloud in a deeper-than-usual voice for him. "A contest for the general public! Whip out those brushes, pencils, charcoal, and whatever else you can find, and catch yourself a model, because this year we're celebrating portraits. To many, it is important for artists to connect with their subjects, whether that be inanimate objects posing for a still life, or people waiting to be captured on canvas. In We hope this will encourage creative minds in our community, and we hope to see your entries soon."

Guido's eyes quickly found their way back to Lovino's. "So?"

"So…what?"

"What do you think?"

Lovino sat up straighter on his stool, managing a stoic expression through his replying with, "I think that's a load of bullshit that you just read and that you made it all up."

Guido frowned. "Hey, it could have said all that." Lovino raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Guido, the flyer had two sentences on it, max. And I'm fairly sure it was the website or something."

He seemed to give up, offering a smile and shrug in defeat. "Damn, I guess you just know me too well." He handed back the flyer with a flourish for Lovino to examine.

Knowing there was no way he'd really accept the offer, he looked over the light blue flyer in consideration for his friend; he was just trying to help, and it was something he seemed excited about.

"Okay, I'll look at it." Lovino folded up the paper, placing it in his pocket and looking back up at his happy friend.

"You know," Guido attempted to say casually, the hints of eagerness not being concealed very well, "I've always wanted to be a model."

Lovino snorted in laughter. "Just ask, bastard."

It nearly startled Lovino how fast the other fell to his knees, begging, "Can I please, please model for this?"

After a moment of staring dumbfoundedly at Guido, Lovino managed to pry him off of his knees by assuring him that he could have the role. The glee in Guido's eyes caused Lovino to laugh at how easily he could be pleased.

"I had no idea you wanted to do that so badly," he remarked once they had both settled down.

"One of the very few things you don't know about me," his friend replied, still looking as happy as a child who had just been offered a lifetime supply of candy.

* * *

 

Lovino sat on his bed, legs pulled tightly against his chest, resting his chin on his knees as he stared blankly at the home screen of his phone. He had intended to let Antonio know that he was sorry for his earlier behavior, but was soon stumped on how he should carry out that plan. If he sent him a text, would it seem like he didn't care enough in his apology? He didn't want him assuming that of him; but, on the other hand, what if a phone conversation apology sounded too forced and awkward? He groaned, his finger still hovered over the screen. "I hate the twenty-first century."

Just as the thoughts arguing in his brain were beginning to come to a consensus, his ears were met with a sudden and startling " _Hit me baby one more time!"_ He made a quick mental note to change his ringtone, soon, and answered the phone.

" _Fratellino?_ " he asked, a bit suspicious at his brother's sudden call. "What's this about, is everything okay?"

Feliciano's laugh sounded fuzzy over the other end. "Does someone have to be dying for me to say hi and check up on how you're doing?"

"I'd assume so, yes."

"Aw, you're no fun." He could practically hear him pouting. "But really, how is everything? Are you getting back into your art, because I really do like what you've done in the past! Oh, and do you have a girlfriend yet? I'm asking for _Nonno_." He giggled.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "One question at a time, please. And _no_ , I don't have a girlfriend." Of course their grandpa would ask that.

"Weeeell…" he paused after dragging out the word. "Do you have a boyfriend?" His voice had a hopeful lift to it that made Lovino both annoyed and embarrassed.

" _No,_ Feliciano, I don't. Stop asking me that," he managed to reply.

His brother sighed through the phone. "You have to have found _someone_ you like, you know. You can't stay single forever, or I'll have to find someone for you!" he stated in a tone Lovino couldn't quite distinguish between serious and teasing. He really hoped he was just teasing.

"Yeah, well, if I ever feel like getting dating advice from a total expert like you, I'll give you a call and let you know." He rolled his eyes, knowing Feliciano would imagine the gesture even if he couldn't directly see it.

"But wouldn't you like it more if I were to, say, help you in person?"

Lovino paused. Was he implying what he thought he was? To confirm his suspicions, he asked a cautious, "What do you mean?"

The bubbly man giggled on the other end. "I'm coming to visit!"

It was just like his brother to invite himself over without warning. Though he usually maintained his good intentions, he hadn't even bothered to confirm Lovino's schedule or anything to help plan _. Classic Feliciano_. He wondered if he could even really house someone at his place for a long period of time; he admitted it wasn't the most comfortable place to stay. With all these thoughts beginning to surround him, all he could manage to say was, "Really?"

"Yeah, really! I haven't seen you in person for ages, and I'm taking a break long enough to stay over there for a while. I hope you don't mind, because I'm super duper excited to see you again," Feliciano replied. His words were spoken in rushed Italian, as he often did when happy. Which was most of the time, in his opinion.

"I can't wait to see you, too." And he meant it. It really had been a very long time since they'd gotten together, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't love his brother enough to feel some sadness at the fact. "But no trying to find me a boyfriend," he added as an afterthought.

Feliciano whined loudly. "But why not? You need a good man in your life!"

"I don't have time for that."

"That's no excuse, you can find time for-"

"Because I'm entering an art contest!" Lovino blurted without thinking. Something he immediately regretted. _Shit, there's no getting out of it now…_

He had to hold the phone away from his ear at the squeal Feliciano let loose. "You are?! That's great, you haven't entered one in years; this is a step in the right direction, you know!" He sighed, understanding that he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Feliciano, it's not that big of a deal. I just have to go through some processes and paint some portraits of Guido."

"Maybe not, but you've been in an art slump for a while. This could really help you." He sounded more serious than his usually carefree self.

"Maybe…" Lovino echoed. He shook his head. "I have to go now. I'll call you later about your visit."

"Alright, can't wait!"

Lovino ended the call, hearing a clap of thunder not long afterwards. "Damn," he muttered.

Bringing his phone up once more, he brought his attention to his earlier problem, though it didn't take long for the pounding rain to distract him. Muttering swears in Italian under his breath, he sent a quick text to Antonio and ran to the side of his house to cover up the hole in the wall with a tarp. All he had sent was, "sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These first four chapters were only posted at once on here because I had them completed already, so I'm sorry for making you lovely people wait for the rest. Which, hopefully, I'll update soon enough.


	5. Challenges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, Bands of America Grand Nationals is this week...marching season is coming to an end...do you know what that means?
> 
> Updates!! I swear I'm going to be better after this. I'm also starting other fics soon, so watch out.
> 
> Now, continue to the really late chapter.

"The fuck do you mean you're cancelling on me?!" Lovino yelled into his phone. It was best at this point for him to ignore the looks he was receiving outside the café, as he was a bit infamous for his random phone call outbursts.

 

Guido cried loudly on the other end. "I'm sorry, don't hate me! I have to take care of my girlfriend; it's not my fault she got pneumonia!"

 

Lovino heaved a heavy sigh at his newfound predicament. He had finally worked up the courage to sign up for the contest, only to have his model cancel the next day. _Things just_ love _going my way recently, don’t they?_ he thought bitterly.

 

"Alright, go make sure she's okay. I'll just…drop out," he said, surprised at how disheartened he was, considering he hadn't even wanted to participate in the beginning. Though, he quickly realized, Guido would be even more upset about it; the man had literally begged on his knees to be able to model only to have his chance taken away.

 

Guido made a strangled mix of a noise, sounding both sad and resolute. "But you have to do it. It's more important that you find your work again," he half-mumbled.

 

"But if I don't have someone to-"

 

"Find someone else!" Guido exclaimed. "Go out and make some friends for once, dammit!"

 

Taking care of his girlfriend must have been really getting to him.

 

A minutes more of conversation and agreements and Guido hung up the call, sputtering something in a hurried response and replying to his girlfriend at the same time, who had him occupied again with who knew what. Lovino sighed, setting his phone down and immediately letting his head fall onto the table with a loud _thunk_ ; he had decided to remain still until he could calm himself down properly. Would the opportunity really have helped to better himself as an artist? And what would he do now? Finding another model didn't seem a likely option, as he wasn't very comfortable with many people in the first place. Asking something like this would be too much for both people in the situation.

 

Once he groggily picked his head back up so as to not fall asleep to the sounds of his own self-pity, he stared off at the stools on the other end of the room, lost in thoughts of his brother and his past. It was a strange thing for him to think about, considering.

 

Though, after some time, the stool wasn't empty anymore, and where his sight had been fixed, there was now someone's ass in the way. He was coming to terms with the fact that it didn't look too bad when the man cleared his throat, causing Lovino to look up. All the while, the realization was slowly dawning on him who exactly it belonged to as he stared right into Antonio's eyes.

 

The Spaniard's laughter set Lovino's cheeks aflame. Antonio turned on his stool to face the flustered man, a friendly smile donning his features. He must have realized how awkward the situation was, because he soon stood up, strode to his side of the room, and sat across the table from Lovino.

 

"Long time no see!" Antonio chirped.

 

"You saw me three days ago," was Lovino's curt reply.

 

"Ah, you're right," he admitted with a shrug. "I'm just not the best at starting conversations."

 

Lovino sighed, having managed to quell his blush, though he still didn't want to admit he had been staring. "I'm sorry…about the other day."

 

Antonio grew slightly more solemn, though it was difficult to identify in his features. "It's fine, don't even worry about it." The faint sadness in his voice said otherwise.

 

 _Why am I such a fuck-up?_ Lovino inwardly groaned. "Can we maybe put that conversation in the past and, say, never speak of it again?"

 

The Spaniard laughed, his joyfulness restored. "Good idea."

 

He readjusted himself in the seat, probably thinking he would stay and chat for a while. "So, what are you doing here? Just getting coffee, meeting someone?"

 

Lovino shook his head. "I just stopped by to relax." He frowned, the recent news flooding back into his mind. "That didn't go as planned," he mumbled.

 

Antonio tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, causing his dark curls to catch stunningly in the morning light. Once again, Lovino couldn't help but picture the brush strokes it would take to paint them. "What happened?"

 

Opening his mouth to speak, Lovino paused and wondered if he should tell him. The other man looked genuinely curious, but that extra something behind his eyes told Lovino that once again he had dug himself a hole that Antonio wouldn't let him out of without an explanation, so he closed his eyes briefly and looked back at him.

 

"I signed up for an art contest."

 

Antonio's eyes lit up. "Really? That's so cool!"

 

Lovino scoffed. "It is, isn't it? But no, Guido's girlfriend just _had_ to get pneumonia, and now I don't have a model to do the damn thing!" he exclaimed, crossing his arms and staring at a stain on the table in irritation.

 

He heard laughter and looked up. "Lovino, talking to you is fun and all, but I can never understand what you're trying to say."

 

"Screw you."

 

"Well, are you just dropping out of it now?" Antonio asked, ignoring the comment.

 

Lovino sighed. "I…I guess I am." Saying it out loud led him to believe that it was really too good an opportunity to be true in the first place, and he felt himself visibly droop forward.

 

Antonio frowned, though Lovino couldn't imagine why; it didn't have anything to do with him.

 

"What if I modeled for you?" Antonio blurted into the silence. Several moments passed with Lovino's mouth hanging slightly agape, and Antonio laughed nervously. "Obviously you don't have to say yes, but if you really want to enter this contest…" His voice softened. "I wouldn't mind."

 

Lovino finally came back to his senses. "But don't you have work and things to do?" he asked cautiously. He wasn't about to let his hope get the best of him.

 

To his astonishment, Antonio shook his head. "You'd be surprised at how much free time I can get. I wouldn't lend my help if I couldn't commit." His words sounded sincere, and Lovino found himself falling into the temptation. Could he really accept this offer from a man he still barely knew?

 

"Alright." _Shit, why did I say that_.

 

"Wow, really? To be honest, I didn't think you'd say yes." Antonio laughed. He wasn't the only one who had thought that.

 

Lovino laughed faintly, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward attempt to stay calm. "You're being serious, right?"

 

Antonio smiled. "Yup."

 

Though he couldn't exactly place why, Lovino felt a small surge of happiness run through him. A light feeling in his chest led him to believe that it would work out, and he'd get to accomplish something down the road.

 

"Lovino?"  

"Huh?"

 

"Just wanted to let you know that you look really nice when you smile."

 

He hadn't realized he was smiling.

 

 _Pull yourself together, dumbass._ Lovino cleared his throat and straightened his back, relaxing his shoulders.

 

"Right, so, should we fix a time to meet or something?" he asked in an attempted casual tone.

 

Antonio nodded, looking around the little café. "When do you need to start?"

 

"This weekend," was his quick reply. He was determined to start sooner than later. Antonio seemed to smile a little more.

 

"Then I'll see you this weekend."

 

* * *

 

 

Staring at his dining room table, Lovino was finally ready to admit that his life was a mess.

 

Months and months of daily life mixed with growing procrastination had left him with an indescribable clutter which covered most of his home. He hadn't exactly been having tea parties with the queen of England lately, so Antonio's scheduled appearance had left him a bit unprepared. It didn't matter that he had had a few days in advance's notice, because he simply forgot to clean. Now, standing helplessly in the midst of everything on a Saturday morning, he really wished he had taken initiative earlier.

 

Lovino closed his eyes and took a deep breath, now making a mental note to also use air freshener.

 

Digging out a speaker from his room, he connected his phone to it and turned up the volume on a Pandora station that played primarily Michael Bublé and got to work organizing paints. Oils in one bin, acrylics in another, and thinners and gels in their own designated basket. Shoving those aside, he moved to pencils.

 

Thirty minutes into this endeavor, he stepped back and surveyed what he had done: the table. "This is gonna take way too long," he muttered under his breath.

 

His composure shattered at the sound of the doorbell. "Shit, I'm not ready, wait!" he yelled, frantically trying to gather bunches of materials in an attempt to make them look more grouped together. He took a deep breath and hung his head in defeat when he scanned the room; there was no point in trying.

 

When he opened the door, he met Antonio's smile with his usual scowl.

 

"I'm here!"

 

"I can see that." Lovino rolled his eyes. "Why the fuck are you here so early?"

 

Antonio pouted. "You didn't set a time, you know. I thought anytime was fine."

 

"It's not even noon yet!"

 

The Spaniard opened his mouth as if to reply, but quickly closed it, hopefully realizing that it was a bad idea to say anything.

 

Lovino stared at him blankly for a few more moments before stepping back into the house, gesturing impatiently inside. "Just get in here, would you?"

 

"Yes, sir!" Antonio saluted playfully as he entered. Even though he had been here before, he still looked around as if he was in a museum instead of someone's home.

 

Lovino rolled his eyes. At least his attention wasn't directly on the clutter.

 

"Well, since you're here, might as well get started," Lovino stated. The two of them meandered their way to the back where Lovino's makeshift studio was tucked away behind the kitchen. By now Antonio was beginning to reveal some nerves; his hands were fidgeting and his eyes were darting around the room.

 

Lovino set up an easel with a pristine white paper set on a drawing board. "Something wrong?" he asked without making eye contact; he didn't want things to be awkward before they even began.

 

"No, no, nothing's wrong." Lovino raised an eyebrow skeptically, finally turning to see him standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Let's just start, okay?" Something about the way he spoke made Lovino feel unease creeping down his neck. Was his guest really that irritated?

 

Though he was feeling somewhat concerned now, he didn't push the matter and pulled a stool to where his model would sit.

 

Back at his easel, he set his materials down to his right on a stack of unread but worn out books and stretched his arms up. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Antonio pouting at the act _. Oh_ , _that's why he's upset._ Lovino shot him a look as a reminder for him to keep his mouth shut, instantly losing all earlier feelings of sympathy; he wasn't about to let Antonio criticize the state of his room.

 

"Alright, chin up a little…move your leg to the left. No, my left. Dammit, Antonio—wait, hold it!" Antonio froze. "Good, right there. Now, don't move."

 

He wasn't entirely certain how this whole painter-model thing was supposed to play out, but he supposed this would have to do.

 

Several minutes of studying Antonio was proving to be a strange process. His focus darted to his hair or his hands or his legs, but never for very long. Lovino's right hand shook just enough to mark the paper with awkward, lightened charcoal swatches. He stared at Antonio's eyes for the longest duration of time in hopes of getting something from them—anything—to hold his attention in place and start the creative flow he needed to capture Antonio on paper.

 

None of it was working.

 

The sliver of vine charcoal between his fingers was thinning down quickly, but snapped before it could get too short. Lovino huffed in annoyance and flicked the pieces away.

 

"Lovino, mind if I-"

 

"No, shut up." Lovino didn't want to hear his judgement.

 

Antonio sighed. "You look really stressed out right now."

 

Lovino pouted. Again, was he just that easy to read? "I'm not."

 

"I think you are." Antonio stood up and out of his pose despite Lovino's loud protests, striding across the short distance of the room and stopping at the heap of art supplies.

 

"I think this mess is making it hard for you to focus," he stated in a voice that sounded very teacher-like.

 

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Then fix it."

 

Antonio placed his hands on his hips and stared him down with a serious look. "I’m not talking about just that. I'm talking about-" He gestured around the room. "-all of this. It's not very healthy to live in a mess like this; it can really bring down your mood and health. And I don’t know about you, but I'd like to see this contest through to the end without some hospital visit in between."

 

They stood there for an elongated amount of time, the only sound being the soft melodies from the music in the corner; Lovino almost thought Antonio wasn't breathing.

 

When he couldn't take it any longer, he broke their stare and threw his hands up in exasperation. "Fine, I'll clean up!" Saying it caused a huge grin to break out on Antonio's face.

 

"Great!"

 

 _I hate you,_ he thought, _for manipulating me like this._

 

Lovino was surveying his drawing with a grimace when he heard a song cut out and change to something else. His eyes grew cold as he smoothly strode across to the radio and gripped Antonio's wrist. "Don't you even _dare_ try to change a Michael Bublé song without asking." Lovino could see the fear in Antonio's eyes, and he stepped away with satisfaction; he had gotten his point across.

 

With his station playing once again, Lovino got to work on stacking books. Novels, old textbooks, art books, and a variety of other additions were more or less in a heap in the corner, and Lovino furrowed his brow in thought. If he simply moved them somewhere else, the mess would only be in a different corner of the room. So, if he organized it and made room on the shelves….

 

* * *

 

 

Three whole hours of cleaning, and Lovino was finally sitting down. He was ready to make a vow against physical movement for the rest of his life; he was exhausted, his left foot ached, and they had only finished the studio. If Antonio tried to talk him into starting in the other rooms, he wouldn't hesitate to lock him out the house. The smiling bastard was barely even sweating, which only pissed him off more.

 

"Lovi, what's your family like?"

 

" _What?_ " Lovino stared at the other man as if he had just asked him if he had been to the moon, snapped out of his glaring trance.

 

Antonio was siting cross-legged on the floor with a photo album resting snugly on his thighs. "Sorry, I can put this back if you want."

 

"Wait, leave it out." He quickly crawled to his side, head tilted curiously and anger forgotten. "Where did you get that?"

 

Antonio chuckled, flipping through pages. "You didn't know you had a photo album in your own house? It hasn't been _that_ many years since you moved here."

 

"Yeah, well, my brother likes to bring random crap in all the time when he visits," Lovino retorted. "It's not my fault he forgets things!"

 

"Is that him?" He pointed to a smiling little boy in his Sunday best proudly showing off his puppy to the camera. He had soft brown hair, a singular prominent curl similar to Lovino's, and the biggest grin you could imagine on an eight-year-old.

 

Lovino nodded thoughtfully. "That was Feliciano's Christmas present about 15 years ago. He begged for a pet, and _Nonno_ wouldn't get him another cat after the last one died, so he got a little Spaniel. Named her Biscotto." He laughed. "I can't believe we let him name that dog."

 

Antonio laughed along with him and turned the page. His finger rested on a picture of Feliciano and Lovino sleeping on the couch together. "You two look a lot alike."

 

"So I've heard."

 

Antonio shrugged. "People just like to point out things that they notice about others."

 

Instead of replying, Lovino turned the page. His cheeks quickly grew crimson at the baby pictures covering the page; Antonio just smiled widely and called it cute.

 

They spent the next hour like that, Antonio asking for an explanation of every scene and family member in the album and Lovino scrambling to remember the details. Birthday parties, summer ice cream treats, sleepovers, horse rides, and even a picture of Lovino and several other boys in the infamous treehouse in the backyard. Antonio would occasionally compare the moments to his own childhood. Lovino had forgotten his grandpa's obsessive photography habit from before the incident, but the pictures made him smile at the captured memories.

 

Nearing the final pages of the album, Antonio once again lingered on one. Lovino studied the picture he was stuck on--it was himself in the hospital, Feliciano kneeling solemnly at his bedside with a withering bouquet of flowers. He had black eyes, his body was bandaged almost to the point where no skin was visible, bruised in the places you could see, and a respiratory system was hooked uncomfortably over his face. He visibly grimaced at his pathetic state, silently willing Antonio to turn the page. This was the one moment he could remember too well, and from what he could read from Antonio's expression, he was seeing his own brother in that bed, bloodied and broken.

 

He was going to suggest getting back to the session and forget the album when Antonio spoke softly. "Did it hurt?"

 

Lovino nodded slowly, knowing there was no point in trying to sugar coat it; you don't lie in these situations. "It did…it hurt a lot."

 

It was strange to see a person you were just beginning to know start to come undone before your eyes. You either did that with someone you were close with, or if you just couldn't help it, and Lovino couldn't figure out which this applied to. He didn't exactly know how to react to the situation, seeing Antonio's eyes begin to water as his gaze remained fixed on the picture. Lovino gently rested a hand on the other man's shoulder for comfort, and almost immediately he saw several tears roll down his cheeks.

 

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry, it's just-"

 

"Hush." Lovino held a finger up to his lips. "It's an upsetting thing, don't be embarrassed if you get emotional over it." The way Antonio slowly shifted his gaze from the page to Lovino's eyes made him hold his breath in fear of disturbing the stillness of the moment. Something told him that not many people saw this sad side of him. All of his students and even Guido only ever spoke about how positive and bright he made everyone feel. Even when he revealed his past with his brother, he bounced back fairly quickly from it. Now, he was a sniffling mess, sitting on the floor and brought to tears by an image that surfaced his own painful memories.

 

Their eyes remained locked for some time. Lovino watched a variety of emotions flicker across Antonio's tear-stained face, and he could only wonder what his own features were portraying.

 

With a sudden determined nod, he stood up, tugging on Antonio's sleeve and guiding him back to his stool in the middle of the room. Antonio silently complied, wiping his eyes with a sleeve and sniffling quietly. Lovino marched over to his drawing board, internally acknowledging that Antonio's plan to rearrange his setup made things easier to access. He'd have to thank him for that later. For now, he retrieved his charcoal sticks and got to work, the gears in his mind instantly beginning to turn.

 

Before, he couldn't focus. He knew too little about his subject, and everything was simply too scattered about for him to piece together a decent picture. Sharing that moment discussing their pasts and Antonio's emotional display had proven to him that the both of them were missing something, something crucial to any artist on their journey to better themselves—emotion. Never had he taken to heart the washed-out, repeated and restated words of every teacher he'd ever had. Every single one had droned on about passion and how a piece was worthless if void of feelings, but he hadn't believed it.

 

Now, he did.

 

Seeing how distraught Antonio was reminded himself of just how diverse a person could be, being both happy and sad in a matter of minutes. He had decided then and there that, until the end of this contest, he would learn more about Antonio and do his damn best to help him through his situation, whatever it may be, and he would do it by capturing that journey on canvas. Art was all Lovino knew—it was what kept him going. And he finally had a way to share it.

 

"Okay, I'm done." Lovino announced as he set down his final piece of charcoal. Antonio, now calmed down and quiet, made his was over to see. As soon as he did, a smile slowly crept its way onto his face.

 

"I think it looks pretty great," he encouraged.

 

Lovino nodded.

 

"You know, Rembrandt-"

 

"Don't you dare try to start giving me a history lesson."

 

Antonio gave a genuine laugh. "Well what do you expect me to do? I've studied this for years!"

 

Despite feeling his lips tugging up at the corners, Lovino rolled his eyes and settled his gaze back on the drawing. Antonio's features were darker around the eyes and emitted a slightly tired feel, but his jaw was relaxed and his body at a comfortable angle. It was how their awkward relationship as a model and artist was starting out, and Lovino reminded himself that it was subject to change at any given time. But, for now, it was good start.

 

"Same time next week?" Antonio asked with a hopeful tinge to his voice.

 

"Screw you, I'm sleeping past noon next time."


	6. Plans and Schedules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter, whoops. This is something I should've said way at the beginning, but I honestly don't know much about Spain, let alone how colleges and schedules and...well, how anything works. So please, if I royally screw things up, please let me know! It would be greatly appreciated!.

"Damn," Lovino sighed. "I can't find those stupid pencils." Muttering to himself as he searched cabinets and buckets, he was beginning to revoke his appreciation for Antonio's cleaning. He should have known better than to let someone that wasn't him arrange a new space for his supplies. At the least, he should have helped him in that area.  
   
He quickly gave up on figuring out his supplies--he didn't want to draw all that much today, anyway--and instead retrieved the photo album he and Antonio had looked through on Saturday. His recent search for continuations had turned up nothing else, leading him to the conclusion that there was only one in the house.  
   
With a dismissive shrug, he brought the book over to his couch and flipped to the end. The mystery of what the final few pages held had been bothering him for the past three days, and he gave in to the temptation after realizing it wasn't a secret he wasn't supposed to see. After all, it was his own family, and Feliciano would've done a better job of not forgetting it if it were more important.  
   
He purposefully skipped the page they had left off on and found the next one, smiling at the title that adorned the whole page: Feliciano's Addition.  
   
"Of course he made his own section," Lovino chuckled.  
   
As expected, the first pages of pictures were mostly dedicated to Feliciano and Ludwig: their wedding, several pictures of Feliciano with Lovino as his best man, a trip the couple had taken to Switzerland, and an assortment of daily life situations.  
   
The next page was completely covered in pictures of Lovino's niece, Fiorella. She was constantly trying to pose to mimic Ludwig, and her curly hair was always as wild as Feliciano's personality.  Lovino hummed to himself, reminiscing about how when Feliciano and Ludwig had first adopted the little girl, they refused to shut up about her. They'd put her on a pedestal for the whole world's viewing if they could. Though, Lovino didn't mind much; she was an adorable little girl who was always fun to be around. Every visit she would sit on Lovino's lap and tell him about her adventures she'd survived with her dads since the last time they saw each other.  
   
Once he finished the book, he sighed contentedly. It had crossed his mind to show Antonio the rest of the pages, but thinking about the recent events made him rethink that possibility. He could just tell him about parts of it later.  
   
Lovino yawned and carefully put the book back in its place on the shelf. It was getting late in the afternoon and he was feeling oddly drained. His mind drove him towards the bathroom, thoughts of a long, hot shower clouding his thoughts.  
   
Back on his bed a half an hour later in only his boxers, he rubbed at his eyes as he opened up his laptop. He squinted at the brightness and pulled up the website with the contest details. Since he was still trying to strengthen his memory, he was determined to memorize the schedule and requirements, so he skimmed through it several times.  
   
He needed five portraits done by the end of June. Antonio would be able to stay for sessions before then, and then he was on break after the deadline. A week later, they would choose a handful of people to continue on to the next portion of the contest, which was….  
   
Lovino groaned. He still hadn't mentioned to Antonio that he would have to model for a nude session, and he couldn't figure out a way to say it for the life of him. He absentmindedly traced one of his more noticeable scars along his side and hummed to himself. He couldn't just let him find out the day of…could he? He was suddenly regretting only checking the events after agreeing to do it.  
   
With an audible sigh and a sharp click of a closing laptop, Lovino buried himself under his comforter. As great as he was at shoving his problems aside, it still took him several minutes to fall asleep.


	7. Visitors

Lovino placed his third portrait by the charcoal one. He wasn't up for comparing the two, or the second one for that matter, so he groggily returned to the couch where Antonio was currently glued to his phone. The Spaniard glanced up at him as he sat down, flashed a bright grin, and returned his gaze to the screen.

 

"You've been on that thing every second you weren't sitting on that stool; what the hell are you doing?" Lovino questioned. To his growing annoyance, Antonio spent several seconds continuing on in silence before looking up.

 

"Sorry, what was that?" Antonio tilted his head ever so slightly. Lovino had begun to notice he did that whenever he asked questions.

 

Lovino rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I _said_ , what the hell are you doing?"

 

Antonio set his phone down on his leg and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, a friend was asking about something."

 

"For an hour?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Not knowing how to respond to that, Lovino shook his head and opted for staring at the far wall.

 

"So, Lovi-"

 

"Lovino."

 

"-you never explained why there's a huge tarp in the corner over there," he asked, sounding slightly skeptical of hearing the answer.

 

Being reminded of it in front of someone caused his cheeks to burn. "Oh, that. Um, the wall is kinda, sorta...gone," he managed to finish.

 

Antonio's eyes grew wide. "Wait, _really_?" Lovino nodded. "I thought I could feel a breeze from over there...."

 

Lovino sighed. "I don't know what happened, but the woman who used to live here left it like that." He paused. "But I just leave it that way. It actually gives me pretty good lighting in here when I need it."

 

Antonio stared at him with a dumbfounded expression. "So you have no intention of fixing that?"

 

"Not really, no."

 

To Lovino's surprise, Antonio sputtered momentarily before erupting into full-blown laughter. To him, he looked completely ridiculous doubling over on the couch, and Lovino couldn't help but feel the embarrassment seeping back into his face; he hated when people laughed at him.

 

It wasn't as if the entire wall was missing; that would be too much to handle. There was only a window-sized hole in the wall from God-knows-what.

 

"That wasn't my fault, you shithead!" he practically yelled when he decided Antonio had made him feel bad enough. Antonio sighed and wiped his eyes, a few tears having had escaped him during his laughing fit.

 

"Then what happened?" he asked through a smile.

 

Lovino pouted. "I don't know."

 

Antonio was calming down now, seemingly interested in the backstory of the partially-destroyed wall. "Well, who owned the place before you?" he asked.

 

"It was a little old German lady," Lovino stated with his chin slightly raised indignantly. "I helped her with her groceries every other week and painted for her sometimes, and she was really nice to me. I knew her for a few years before she left. She let me have the place when she moved back to Germany to live with her family again, and I've been here ever since. So if you wanna know what happened, go find _her_ and ask!" He huffed and crossed his arms, fully aware of how childish he was acting. "Now, stop laughing at my natural lighting spot, bastard."

 

It was easy to see Antonio was still struggling to suppress his jovial mood, as he had a hand over his mouth and his face was several shades of red; Lovino was fairly certain he was holding his breath.

 

Wearing a frown matched with a glare, Lovino abruptly stood up. "I'm making lunch, so shut up and do whatever until I'm done. Just don't destroy my things in here."

 

He turned and walked the short distance to the kitchen, swiftly getting out the necessary materials and ingredients to make pizza. He almost groaned out loud when he saw Antonio standing behind him.

 

"What are you doing?" he snapped over his shoulder as he reached for a jar of tomato sauce in a particularly high cabinet. Antonio reached over him and retrieved it for him, setting it down on the counter.

 

"Helping!"

 

Lovino huffed through his nose, annoyed. "Why?"

 

Antonio shrugged. "I've got nothing better to do. Plus, it could be fun. What are we making?"

 

"Don't you wanna be all secretive and text your friend?" Lovino replied, ignoring his question.

 

He could see a small twinge of hurt in Antonio's eyes, and he almost regretted saying it. "But we already finished talking," Antonio said. Then he was smiling again. "And I'm sorry if I was being rude earlier; you could've said so if you wanted to spend time with me."

 

Lovino laughed briefly, walking to the other side of the kitchen to fetch a rolling pin. "Don't you dare think that's what I--Ow, shit!" He fell to the ground with a loud thud, frantically clutching at his sock-clad left foot and gritting his teeth in pain.

 

"Lovino!" His head was swimming as Antonio appeared by his side, hand on his back to help him hold his sitting position. "Are you alright? What did you hit? Do you need anything?" He sounded like he was panicking.

 

"I-I'm fine, just hit the…side of the counter," Lovino managed to wheeze out, still clutching his foot. He had hit it on the side of his missing toe, where he could feel it throbbing as he kept his death grip around it.

 

Antonio looked around, though Lovino couldn't tell if he was searching for a person or a solution. "Stay still, I'll go get you an ice pack."

 

"Fridge," he mumbled, briefly closing his eyes to concentrate on something else other than his spotted vision.

 

Only a few moments later Antonio was back with an ice pack wrapped in a cloth. Lovino muttered a " _grazie_ " and gingerly pressed it against the area, wincing as it touched.

 

The worried look was still plastered on Antonio's face. "Lovi, go sit down, please. I'll make lunch," he offered.

 

Lovino pouted, his breath evening out. "What? No, dumbass, I'm cooking. Just because I hurt myself doesn't make it the end of the world," he hissed through his teeth. In a sudden attempt to stand up, he quickly lost his balance and his footing. He fell into Antonio's arms, staring up at him with a look of both annoyance and embarrassment.

 

He was shocked to find Antonio's expression turning a frightening, almost angry one. "Lovi. Couch. Now." Antonio looked dead serious, and Lovino didn't try to argue any more.

 

Heaving a sigh, he held the ice pack in one hand, using the other to hold on to Antonio for balance as he hobbled to the couch where he could still watch.

 

Antonio took a deep breath back in the kitchen. "So, what are we making?"

 

"Well, technically _you're_ making it now. But I was planning on pizza," Lovino replied, his leg up on the couch and his arms crossed.

 

Lovino watched as Antonio tapped his finger on the counter. "Okay…" he trailed off. "Alright, someone showed me a few times, so I think I can handle it."

 

"Go ahead." Lovino occupied himself with adjusting his ice pack on his foot without hurting it too much. Though the pain was beginning to ebb away, he was still pissed that he was careless enough to let it happen.

 

With a surrendering sigh, he rested his head on the arm of the couch. Before he could catch himself, the faint cluttering of kitchenware and the soft sound of his own breathing lulled him off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Something was burning.

 

Lovino bolted upright on the couch. The pain in his foot was gone and the ice pack had fallen on the floor. The burning smell was getting worse. When he finally processed what was going on, he glared at Antonio, who was occupied fanning a smoking pizza with a kitchen rag. The two locked eyes and Antonio smiled sheepishly.

 

"Haha…um, you're awake."

 

"No shit."

 

Lovino could tell the other man was trying to play off the horrible pizza as if it weren't there; he tried blocking his view of it by standing between the ruined dish and Lovino, but the tempered Italian was having none of it.

 

Standing up and marching over to the counter with a determined stride, Lovino shooed Antonio out of the kitchen against his protests and began preparations for a second pizza.

 

Antonio had once again switched from an unmovable force to a hurt puppy. The shift almost made Lovino laugh.

 

Throughout the duration it took for the second pizza to be done, Antonio coaxed Lovino into a lengthy discussion about what had gone wrong the first time. He went on about the temperature in the oven, the size of the dough, distribution of ingredients, until he stopped himself before the point of nitpicking. He was secretly pleased to see Antonio listening attentively; he really wanted to get it right next time. _Next time?_ he thought briefly. He shook his head of the thought.

 

Pizza finished, Lovino nodded in satisfaction at his creation. He left it on the counter to cool off and flopped down onto the couch beside Antonio, who had gotten his phone back out. Lovino cleared his throat, effectively getting his attention.

 

"Almost done," he confirmed.

 

"Great! Smells much better than my attempt." Antonio laughed, and Lovino couldn't help but laugh alongside him.

 

Antonio excused himself, saying he wanted to use the restroom before they ate. Lovino nodded and stretched, enjoying the satisfaction of hearing his back pop in several places.

 

Just as he was melting back into the couch, he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. _Who the hell...?_ he though in bewilderment. He didn't get visitors out in the middle of nowhere.

 

Regardless, he pried himself off the leather couch and made his way to the door, hearing the bell again when he was almost there. "Alright, alright, I'm coming!" he yelled. Nearly throwing it open when he touched the handle, he scanned outside to find someone's car parked in his driveway. The trunk was open, and someone was leaning inside it.

 

" _Zio_ Lovi!" He looked down into deep blue eyes on a face surrounded by a mess of brown hair. The little girl in front of him sported a grin so wide, Lovino feared she would start to hurt soon.

 

"Fiorella? Is that you?" His expression now held a mixture of surprise and happiness, the annoyance forgotten.

 

Lovino heard a shout from the car, and he looked up again. "Don't forget about me!" the man shouted.

 

"I wish I could, Feliciano!" Lovino replied. His brother knew he didn't mean it. He rolled his eyes as he watched Feliciano struggle with taking out several suitcases from the tiny car. His habit of over-packing would never change. It was a miracle he had fit them there in the first place.

 

Lovino found himself holding his niece's hand as he walked to greet his brother properly. The two embraced in a tight hug, Feliciano being the one to pull back and smile brightly.

 

"You didn't tell me you were coming today," Lovino commented. He wanted to be annoyed, but he realized he couldn't bring himself to. He hadn't seen his family in months, and it was a nice surprise, even if it was somewhat planned.

 

Feliciano shrugged and closed the trunk to his car. "Fio was begging me to come see you, and neither of us could really wait, so we packed up and left yesterday!" His expression soured. "But I'm so tired now."

 

"Then get your shit inside and lay down."

 

"Lovi!" Feliciano pointed at his daughter with a hard frown.

 

"Oh, uh, right. Sorry," Lovino apologized. He'd need to monitor his language while she was here.

"Here, let's get your bags." He pulled up the handle on one of the suitcases and threw a smaller bag over his shoulder.

 

Feliciano ran in front of him, stopping him from going further. "Hey, hey, don't strain yourself and give me one of those."

 

Lovino groaned. "Don't do this. I'm fine, and I can handle some damn luggage. Now, _move_." Feliciano sighed and stepped out of his way, going back to get more of his things.

 

Back in the house, Lovino spotted Antonio walking in from the other side of the living room. He tilted his head gesturing to the suitcase. "Going somewhere?" he asked, sounding a bit confused.

 

Lovino shifted the bag to his other shoulder and sighed. "Crap, I didn't tell you, sorry. My brother is visiting." He paused. "But, in my defense, I didn't know either."

 

He walked past the shocked looking Spaniard in the direction of the guest room. After laying the bags in front of the bed and fixing the pillows up, he left the room to find Fiorella giggling at Antonio. The two were seemingly having a staring contest.

 

"Hey, Toni, help us get the rest of their stuff," Lovino called, effectively breaking the contest. He couldn't quite tell why, but Antonio looked a little hesitant before he agreed. He watched as he patted Fiorella on the head affectionately on his way out the door. Lovino watched his back as he left, looking back to his niece, who had occupied herself standing on a kitchen stool and practically drooling over the food displayed on the counter. He felt genuinely excited to see her again and ask her about how she'd been, even though they'd seen each a half a year ago.

 

Someone yelled--he would almost call it a scream--bringing him back to reality and causing him to run outside. "What the hell is going on?!" he called out.

 

Feliciano's eyes were wide, his suitcase abandoned on the ground. His gaze moved past Antonio and landed on his brother, and he beamed. "Lovino! Who's this?" Lovino sighed in relief; nobody was actually hurt. Though his relief quickly changed to annoyance watching Feliciano bounce up and down like a child.

 

He walked briskly to stand between the two. "Feliciano, this is Antonio Fernández Carriedo. He's a new guy at the college I went to, and he's helping me with that contest I told you about." He pointedly raised an eyebrow to remind him not to say anything dumb or embarrassing.

 

His brother simply nodded and smiled. "Got it." He moved in front of Lovino to reach Antonio again. "Nice to meet you--oh, wait, not Italian, sorry." He cleared his throat, looking to his brother for help. "Um, Lovino, were you guys speaking Spanish or English? Because I don't know much Spanish and-"

 

"It's fine, we actually switch between the two a lot."

 

Lovino turned to fully face Antonio, appalled and completely bug-eyed. He wasn't currently speaking either of those languages. " _You_ speak _Italian?_ " he questioned rather loudly. "Why the fuck have you not mentioned that before?"

 

Antonio rubbed the back of his neck and laughed somewhat awkwardly. "It wasn't…important?" He smiled at the end of the sentence. "I actually lived in Italy a few years back."

 

Lovino was completely shocked, but Feliciano only seemed to grow more excited. He squealed loudly, grabbing Antonio by the arm and practically dragging him inside. "You know what? I like you, Antonio! Oh, have you met my daughter? I bet you two will get along like best friends!" He continued to babble until Lovino couldn't comprehend a word he was saying.

 

With a submissive sigh, Lovino picked up the remaining suitcase and brought it into the house; this was just like a normal visit, but he had a feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

 

Putting the suitcase with the others, Lovino joined the other three people in the living room where they were chatting about the drive here. Feliciano was describing how the drive was long, but the beautiful scenery made up for the exhaustion. Fiorella interjected many times to talk about animals she spotted along the way and the songs she sang with her dad. Antonio looked to be soaking it all in, completely enthralled by the two.

 

Lovino walked over to the kitchen counter, realizing they still hadn't eaten. "Anybody want pizza?" he called, which was immediately followed by a swarm of hungry people, their conversation forgotten.

 

"Guys, slow down, it's not going anywhere--hey!" He glared at Antonio who had accidentally bumped into him. Antonio returned an apologetic shrug and backed up a step.

 

Feliciano was staring at the two, his eyes lost in thought. "Man, that really was one long drive. But it's all worth it to get to eat Lovino's famous pizza again." Without much of a glance, he reached for a slice and briskly took a bite, only to spit it out a second later. "Oh my god, what _is_ that?!" He stared in horror as he finally realized there was more than one on the table. "Don't tell me you've lost your touch!"

 

Lovino scoffed. "As if. Looks like you grabbed the wrong one." He tilted his head towards the blushing Spaniard beside him. "He made that one."

 

Shocked gaze now directed at Antonio, Feliciano shook his head. "And you got my hopes so high." He laughed. "I’m joking; we can fix your cooking skills in no time. Isn't that right, Fio?"

 

"Yup!" The little girl agreed, her hair bouncing with her nodding motion.

 

"That sounds nice," Antonio admitted. "Thanks, Lovi tried to help me earlier, too, so I think I can improve someday! Oh, but I'm sorry you accidentally ate that one."

 

Feliciano shrugged, getting a slice of the other pizza. "No problem, we all make mistakes."

 

After downing two more slices, he clapped his hands together. "Alright, Fio and I are going to our room to take a nice, long siesta. You two, no loud noises while I'm gone!"

 

" _Feliciano!_ " Lovino screeched.

 

"What? I'm just saying!"

 

Lovino tried burning holes into his skull with a death glare; it wasn't working. Antonio laughed, leaning his arms on the counter. "We'll be fine in here, Feliciano. Go rest up."

 

Feliciano saluted them with a wink. Fiorella waved at them with a bright smile before following her father to the guest room.

 

"Sorry about him, he's crazy," Lovino muttered.

 

Antonio shook his head. "They both seem great."

 

"Tell me that after you live with him for 23 years." Lovino rolled his eyes and walked back to the studio in the back.


	8. Concealing

"See you all later. Bye, Feliciano! Bye, Fiorella! And I'm not forgetting you, Lovi!" Lovino rolled his eyes but waved goodbye to Antonio as he left. Two entire hours of endless talking and suffering through playing board games and _more talking_ had left him exhausted, and he gladly let it all melt away as Antonio closed the door.

Though, of course, it was a short lived moment of peace. Feliciano practically pounced on him the instant Antonio was gone, squealing happily and shaking his shoulders. "Lovino, you didn't tell me you had a man over here! Have you two gone on a date? How long was he staying here?" He suddenly gasped. "Did he spend the night?"

Fiorella mirrored his gasped from the other side of him. "Did he?"

"Would you two be quiet for one second!" Lovino gently pushed the two back enough to give himself room to breathe. He had to get used to the crowding again. "Nothing is happening between us, he spent the night one time, _on the couch_ , he's only helping me with the contest, and we are _not_ dating. Don't you dare even bring that up again, you hear me, Feliciano?"

His brother pouted, slumping back to his spot on the couch. "And you didn't even let him use the guest bedroom. Shame."

"It was a mess in there when he stayed. Trust me, the couch was a better option." He thought back to when they had gone through every room aside from Lovino's bedroom, cleaning them out and making them at least presentable. Originally, it was… _Definitely better on the couch_ , he thought.

Fiorella prodded at his arm, catching his attention. "Why is he bad at cooking?" she asked. It was an unexpected change in conversation, and Lovino couldn't help it; he started laughing.

"Because he's not Italian, that's why," was his eventual reply. Fiorella nodded, chewing on her bottom lip and staring at the ground with a thoughtful expression.

"Can we teach him?" She looked back up, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation when she asked the question.

Lovino smiled. "Why, has someone been teaching you, too?"

Fiorella nodded excitedly, climbing into Lovino's lap. He knew from experience that meant she was about to give him the full extent of a story.

She started off by pointing at Feliciano, both sharing matching smiles of pride. "He taught me how to make fettuccine!" She then launched into an explanation on how she and Feliciano had made an excessive amount of the pasta for Ludwig while he was away on a business trip. "He got home and said it was the best he ever had!"

"Ohh, that sounds great. You think you can make some for me soon?" Lovino asked, trying to prevent the bouncing six-year-old from falling off his leg.

"Yeah, for you and Tonio! I'll make you both dinner." She nodded in a final decision Lovino knew she'd do her best to keep.

"What about Papà?" Lovino asked, inwardly groaning when she shook her head.

"It's just for you two!"

Lovino didn't dare look at what kind of expression his brother was making, knowing full well he'd try to get involved and blow things out of proportion. Hell, he was probably already planning it. He'd probably even told his daughter to say those things.

He sighed. "Alright, alright, you can make dinner for us."

"Aw, Lovi, you're so nice to let her do that for you guys," Feliciano said with a sweet grin.

"Yeah, whatever. But at least one of you _has_ to be tired by now. Why don't you go to sleep?" Though he did care for the well-being of his family, Lovino mostly wanted his peace and quiet back.

As if by response, Feliciano yawned, followed by Fiorella. "But I wanna go explore Spain," the sleepy child muttered. Her half-closed eyes and fatigued tone said otherwise.

"Not today, bella. Right now, you're getting some sleep." Feliciano gently shooed her towards the bedroom. "We can go explore tomorrow, how's that? Uncle Lovi can show you around."

Lovino heard a muffled "yay" as Fiorella disappeared around the corner. Feliciano stopped just before it, turned around, and walked back to Lovino, placing his hands on his shoulders. Lovino let his own hang limp at his sides. Feliciano's expression was serious yet gentle, and Lovino was a bit shocked at it; he hadn't seen his brother like this in a while.

"I just want you to know that he seems really nice. I'm not trying to impose on your life this time, but I really do think Antonio is a nice man. Try to keep this one, please? At least as a friend. We all know you need it." He ended with a smile that Lovino couldn't help but reciprocate a little, despite the obvious joke at his expense.

He sighed in resignation. "Alright, I'll try. But no promises." Feliciano let go of his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling into his shoulder. It was a familiar gesture coming from him, and Lovino welcomed it back into his life. For now, at least.

"Great!" Feliciano hummed. "It's nice to be able to hug you again."

"Yeah, whatever, just go to sleep now," Lovino said, prying his clingy brother off of him and turning him in the direction of his room. "Fio is probably wondering where you are."

With a tired laugh, Feliciano started off towards the hallway. "Roger, captain!" he called back before walking out of sight.

Lovino was officially more exhausted than he had been in months. Nothing ever really prepared him for visiting with family, especially if his younger brother was involved. The contest and the sudden surges of emotions Antonio brought with every appearance was only making things more of a task to deal with.

Trudging to his own bed, he began thinking, as he had been doing many nights recently, about what Antonio was. Feliciano's words had dashed his hopes of a simple night of rest, dooming him and his mentality to returning to the same subject. He'd practically made a list of what he knew, accompanied by a much lengthier one of what he wanted to find out.

First off, Antonio was a year older than him. He knew more than Lovino could even comprehend about the history of the arts and all they entailed. He seemed interested enough in Lovino to spend time with him and assist him in this contest, though he didn't quite know who he was doing it for. He liked to laugh but was easily put down, and he tried to hide it as much as he could handle. He seemed to act somewhat cautiously around Lovino, and only his imagination could tell him why. Additions to the list from the day's events were: he couldn't cook pizza worth shit, he seemed to get along well with children, and he could speak Lovino's mother tongue.

That now filled his top spot on the extensive list of things he wanted to discover. How on Earth did he know Italian? Did he have family in the country; was it his curiosity about other cultures; had he lived there once? And what of his brother's death? Lovino had too quickly seen the vulnerable side of Antonio, and for an affection-deprived person like himself, he felt that sharing in someone else's pain would help him to cope with his own. He wanted to know, wanted to help, wanted to be able to read someone as well as he could himself. When he saw how distraught Antonio became at the subject of his brother, he couldn't help but let his curiosity take charge. Theories and unanswered questions buzzed around in his brain, refusing to leave him alone. He knew there was a simple answer to them, but, taking a moment to look at his current state, it scared him just how much he wanted to know.

He knew it was dangerous, trying to get close to people. He had a limit to how much he would delve into a person's self, and yet his mind was screaming at him to go further than he would normally allow. Antonio made him curious. He felt familiar, like an old friend, and he wanted to know _why_. But Lovino couldn't simply use that as a reason to try again, could he? _Do I_ _even_ need _a reason?_ he asked himself, growing more fatigued at the thoughts; they were beginning to coil around his throat, choking him into paying attention to them, and he was tired of it.

Pulling the comforter closer around his chilled body, Lovino let his gaze rest on the ceiling. It was always a calming thing for him to find a constant when his mind raced faster than he could keep up with. He closed his eyes, allowing the last of his thoughts to run through his mind before sleep overtook him.

The last time he had really felt something like this was before entering his last relationship several years ago. He'd gotten too curious, felt to helpless, and everything fell through the cracks for him. It was a horrible and toxic relationship, and he absolutely hated thinking about it, especially at night when his emotions got the best of him.

It was one of the main reasons he was terrified of being too close to people outside his family; he could never truly tell what they were like on the inside.

All he could do was hope and believe Antonio was different.

* * *

"You know, I'd probably be able to finish this a lot faster if you'd _stop fucking moving the guitar_."

Antonio stopped strumming, flashing an apologetic smile at the fuming Italian. "Sorry, I can't help it," he said in a singsong voice. "The passion is just overflowing today!"

"Yeah, it's cool!" Fiorella piped up from where she was snuggled up in a blanket on the couch. Both she and Antonio had insisted that he play while Lovino painted him. Lovino had told him to keep his movements to a minimum, but, of course, he still plucked out songs and spun on the stool in an attempt to make Fiorella laugh louder, even when Lovino lashed out at him for it.

 _He's lucky I'm good at this_ , he thought with a hint of malice.

Lovino still managed to paint his cheerful figure despite his loud singing and Fiorella's clapping and giggling. Antonio's guitar had a beautiful twining design around the sound hole and a lovely light color to it. It appeared slightly worn from years of use, but Lovino could tell he took great care of the instrument from the way he held it gently, as if it was the most precious thing in the world to him; and it very well might have been. Though he wanted to seem nonchalant about it, Lovino was inwardly delighted to paint the little scene.

"Lovi," Antonio mock-pleaded, "let me play you a song!" Lovino resumed his glare, effectively stopping him from playing another note.

"This is the third time I'm telling you— _no_. You keep distracting me."

Still trying to contrast the spots of light—he had taken the tarp off in favor of using the natural sunlight that day—he was gently trying to coax the brush to follow the curves of the guitar when Feliciano treaded into the room, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and not bothering to smooth down his unruly hair. Lovino thought he looked like a bear just awoken from hibernation.

"Lovino, that's so _bright_ , can you please make it go off?" he groaned in a loud, irritated tone.

"Give me a way to turn off the sun, and I'll gladly go and do it," Lovino replied curtly, turning his attention back to the canvas.

He knew Feliciano was glaring at him. He always turned into a nasty version of his older brother in the mornings, especially if he couldn't sleep well. Lovino derived some secret pleasure at being one of the few to know how to push his buttons, but he usually kept himself from going too far.

When Feliciano finally locked eyes with Antonio, his expression softened. The two exchanged a wave, and Antonio looked to Lovino in a silent request to move. After receiving a nod, Antonio stood up and stretched, his guitar still being held in one hand as he greeted Feliciano again with a hug. Lovino only half listened to him talk as he made his way to sit on the couch by his niece. She smiled up at Lovino casually, and he flashed a small smile in return before sinking into the soft material against his back.

Feliciano left in an eager rush to get a cup of coffee Antonio made for all of them, and Antonio took a seat beside Lovino.

"We're running out of couch room, you know," Lovino mused.

Antonio hummed in thought. "I can move."

Lovino shrugged dismissively, sitting in silence until a certain even rushed into his mind.

"Oh, right, I…forgot to tell you something." He took a deep breath. "Fiorella, sweetheart, go see if Papà needs any help getting his coffee." She complied, running off to the kitchen to see him. By this point, Antonio had a look of worry slowly taking over his features, while Lovino's face heated up in embarrassment at what he was about to ask.

"You know that tomorrow is when we go together for that session, right? With all the other competitors?"

Antonio nodded slowly. "Yeah, you told me about it a few weeks ago."

 _Shit, I should've fucking told him then_ , he swore internally. But it was too late for that. He had to do it now, and with an attitude that didn't make him appear too uncomfortable.

"Well…how do you feel about having to take your clothes off for that?" He winced, not knowing what kind of response awaited him.

Antonio's eyes widened considerably in shock. "For…how much of my clothes, exactly?"

With an exasperated sigh, Lovino clenched his jaw, ready to get this conversation over with. "All of them, Antonio," he said in the clearest tone he could muster. "It's a nude session."

Someone spit out their coffee from the other room.

"I-I've never been in one of those before, are you sure you want me to do that?" Antonio was blushing now, and Lovino noticed him pulling down the hem of his shirt.

"It's a bit too late now to change models…but yes. I do want you to do it." He really meant it. He knew he wouldn't fully be comfortable painting anyone else, and even if it would be awkward, it would be bearable. At least, he hoped it would be.

Antonio took a deep breath, looking somewhat relieved at Lovino's confident confirmation. "Alright." He seemed to have picked up on Lovino's confidence, and he looked to be more relaxed despite the revelation of what was in store for him tomorrow. "Who knows," he added. "This could be fun!" He still had a worried look in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by his usual easygoing nature.

Fiorella came wandering back into the room with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the end dragging along the floor.

"Hey, where's Feli?" Antonio asked her.

She resumed her seat beside Lovino. "He had to go change shirts because he spit coffee on it."

Antonio practically threw his head back laughing, and Lovino felt his heart flutter ever the slightest bit. He suddenly got the feeling that tomorrow would be even more difficult than he initially thought.


	9. All We Can Do

They arrived at the building—it was more of a warehouse—at noon the next day. Lovino found his way to the entrance after finding a hand-written sign with a scribbled arrow directing them to go around to the back.

 

Antonio had commented on how there weren't very many other cars in the parking lot as they drove up, saying they had a better chance at winning with fewer people. Lovino only hoped he didn't have to speak to them much.

 

The inside was as spacious as it seemed from outside, with a high ceiling and lots of windows dotting the walls. Several easels were arranged in a circle of sorts off to the side where the lights were brightest, and against the other wall stood a table of food which was surrounded by what Lovino assumed were the other contestants. The lack of objects in the large room amplified the voice of whoever the hell was talking so loudly. Scratch that, Lovino classified it as _yelling_.

 

The culprit was a lean blond man bending over with his elbows propping him up on the little table. He had an old-looking bomber jacket tied around his waist and a dirty white shirt, and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He was talking loudly in English to a poor girl who smiled awkwardly and twirled her hair around her finger as she listened. She seemed about ready to snap at him.

 

Behind him, a man with even lighter hair and the biggest eyebrows he'd ever seen matched with a bored expression was dragging a chair to the table rather noisily. To Lovino's annoyance, and the other people around him by the way they held their hands over their ears, the man seemed undeterred by the loud scraping noise and continued at a steady pace until he reached the table, opening a book as he sat down. Someone else--a man with dark hair and a deep frown—spoke up from behind the chair.

 

"What the hell was that about? You don't see that you're obviously hurting people's ears and then say nothing about it!" He looked pissed, and the mole on the corner of his mouth twitched when he spoke. When he didn't get a response, he shouted a quick "hey!" and stomped over to stand in his view; the other man only glanced up from his book.

 

Bomber jacket man stopped his conversation at the commotion, quickly gaining a more serious expression as he turned to face the one fuming at the guy in the chair. "Woah, woah, dude, calm down. Yell all you want, but he's not gonna hear you."

 

"What?"

 

"He's deaf, so he can't hear you! Or maybe he just didn't care. I wouldn't put it past him. I'm Alfred, by the way." He held out his hand, to which the other hesitantly took it.

 

He looked somewhat awkward now, having been shouting at a deaf man. "Roderich," he spoke. "I guess I should apologize."

 

Alfred laughed. "No sweat, man, it happens a lot. Look, I'll tell him to be more careful about dragging stuff around the room." He tapped the man's shoulder and signed a few quick things when he looked up. He didn't reply, only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the pages of his book.

 

With a shrug, Alfred leaned back against the wall next to the table. "I tried. Oh, that's Arthur, by the way."

 

"Nice to meet you both!" Antonio smiled pleasantly and shook Alfred's hand as the brunette Alfred had been talking to earlier quietly scolded Roderich. Lovino hadn't even noticed Antonio leave his side; he was still standing alone at the door. Slightly embarrassed but determined not to show it, he took on a look of indifference and made his way over to the group of people.

 

A few more people were conjugated in a group by one of the windows, leaning against it or gazing at the trees dotted around the perimeter. Lovino still wasn't up for socializing and leaned his back against the cool window. Next to him stood a woman with long platinum hair and a scowl that could turn any victim to stone. She appeared to be surveying the area, though Lovino didn't exactly want to know what for.

 

Another woman and two men stood a few feet away. The woman had short hair with a similar color to the person next to Lovino, and she seemed a bit lost looking around by herself. Two others sat adjacent to each other, the dark haired one listening quietly to the blond rambling off about how his pony was doing back home. He even had his phone out, and he was facetiming someone to check up on it.

 

Lovino found it strange to see the parallels of all the people in the room. He had forgotten how different people with the same interests could be, and he could only wonder which ones of the pairs were the model and the painter. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd soon see half of these people naked, and he had the inexplicable urge to flee the scene.

 

He'd had to live through a session like this before, back when he was still a student. They had a required nude session in their study of the human body; that had been an interesting day among the students. He didn't initially think much of it, but the man modeling for the class had been annoyingly cute. Lovino was only glad he had a better control of himself than some people.

 

Every head turned—even Arthur's—at the sound of a door slamming hard against the wall. A disheveled man with shoulder-length blond hair and a scuff at his chin stumbled in, panting, with several manila folders clutched to his chest. He turned his head after a quick moment of regaining his balance and smiled. He looked to be trying to appear collected from the way he stood taller and strode towards them briskly; Lovino rolled his eyes at his attempt.

 

" _Bonjour_ , everyone! I didn't realize you would all be here-" he glanced at his watch, "-well, on time."

 

He set his folders down on the little fold-out table and clapped his hands in an unnecessary call to attention. "Right, my name is Francis Bonnefoy, the one who put together this little contest! I'm _very_ impressed with the portraits you've all sent in so far, so don't go disappointing me here. Oh, and don't worry, sometimes people get a little excited, if you know what I mean. It's expected." Francis plastered on a rehearsed-looking smile filled with intended charm as he pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail. A few people shuffled around without a purpose in the moments of silence.

 

Finally seeming to notice the discomfort in the room, Francis turned his attention away from the folders to look at them all. "Well? Go on and get undressed; the changing rooms are that way." He pointed to the two branching hallways and returned to his documents.

 

Lovino looked for Antonio in the small crowd heading for the rooms, surprised when he spotted him tapping Francis' shoulder. The Frenchman's eyes lit up when he turned around to meet Antonio with the same joyful expression. "Well, if it isn't the little childhood troublemaker who turned me into an awful human being. I thought I recognized you in some of those portraits!"

 

Antonio laughed, pulling Francis into a tight hug. "I think you're confusing me with Gilbert; he was the worst one."

 

"Ah, I have to agree with you, there. He always got us to do the craziest things." The two of them instantly began chatting about past antics and recent events. It was easy to see how well they clicked. Lovino knew he shouldn't be watching them, but he couldn’t help it. When they started whispering to each other, Lovino soon found himself standing beside Antonio; when the hell had he walked over there?

 

Francis noticed him first. He looked ecstatic as he greeted him with a hug, despite Lovino tensing up as he did so. He took a step back when Francis let go, fixing his shirt and looking to Antonio with a hint of malice for an explanation.

 

"Right, sorry. Lovino, this is an old childhood friend, Francis. Francis, this is-"

 

"Lovino, right?" Francis winked. "Tonio here was just telling me about you."

 

Lovino raised an eyebrow at Antonio, who chuckled somewhat nervously. "Nothing bad, I swear," he said.

 

Francis laughed. "I tell you, you did a spectacular job capturing the many faces of Antonio-too-long-of-a-name-to-remember. That's a tough job you took on."

 

"Aw, come on, Francis, you've known me forever!" Antonio whined. "It's not _that_ hard to remember. Right, Lovi?"

 

"Whatever," Lovino interjected dismissively. "But you're gonna be late, so get your ass over there with everyone else." Antonio nodded and hurried to get undressed.

 

Turning to find his place at his easel, he was settling down on a stool when Francis pulled up another to sit beside him. Lovino rolled his eyes; just because he was Antonio's friend didn't make him his.

 

"You know," he started out casually, "I really was impressed by your submissions. You have a lot of skill built up." He leaned a little closer, and Lovino backed away just as much. "Don't tell anyone, but I think you might be my favorite artist here."

 

Lovino tried to avert his gaze, wondering what he was thinking. He seemed to notice Lovino recoil, because he stood up and backed up a step.

 

"Was I too close? I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable." Francis turned and started walking back to the table, calling over his shoulder as he went. "Take care of Antonio for me, we both know he needs someone to look after him!"

 

Lovino scoffed and turned lazily on his stool, back to his usual mood. Francis was acting like an old friend asking him to watch carefully over a puppy.

 

He watched as the others all took to their stools as well. Arthur stashed away his book under his, and Lovino found himself staring at him. _What's it like being deaf?_ he wanted to ask. He could have lost his hearing in the accident, and what would have happened? Just thinking about that possibility made him shudder at how different he would be now. Would he even really be that different?

 

A woman who Lovino recognized as the one who scolded Roderich earlier took her seat beside Lovino, disrupting him from his spiraling mind. She smiled and held out her hand, which Lovino took as a more comfortable greeting than Francis'. "I didn't get to introduce myself to you. Elizabeta Héderváry."

 

"Lovino Vargas." Elizabeta gave him a warm smile, and he inwardly sighed in relief as they shook hands. She seemed like the easiest person here to talk to.

 

She regarded him with some scrutiny for just a moment before adjusting her canvas. Their conversation wasn't going anywhere, apparently.

 

"Okay, everyone, your models are ready!" Francis announced, stepping aside to let the people through.

 

Under normal circumstances, Lovino would have been fine. He was a mature adult who wasn't very easily swayed by people's nudity unless a hell of a lot of alcohol was involved.

 

He was certain someone must have slipped him something, then, because Antonio was absolutely gorgeous. Lovino almost struggled to keep his eyes above his abs. _Jesus Christ, when the hell does this man even find time to work out?_ he questioned in disbelief. Antonio must have noticed him staring, because he smiled and waved, his face the slightest bit pink.

 

What eventually caught his attention was the long scar that marred the right side of his chest, right under his arm. Of course, another thing for Lovino to wonder about.

 

Francis had them all gather together in the middle of the canvas semicircle, taking his place in front of them. "So, are we all ready?" he asked cheerfully. A few nods went around, and Alfred even gave a small holler. "Great!" he smirked. "Because I have a little surprise." Lovino noticed a few sharing his own shocked expression; what the hell was this man planning?

 

"Since you've all been painting the same person over and _over_ , I feel that's not really getting the feel of this competition. As of this reason, you're going to be switching models today! I have the list of people, so don't worry about picking a partner; this isn't highschool gym." Only half the people in the room laughed at that. Out of the corner of his eye Lovino spotted Alfred translating the speech to Arthur, who looked the most surprised and worried out of everyone.

 

Francis flipped through several pages in his clipboard with a flourish. "First off, we have Toris and Roderich. Arthur, dear, you have Natashya." The platinum-haired woman from earlier stepped up to him, looking mildly uncomfortable but mainly unperturbed. "Katyusha, Feliks. Elizabeta has Antonio, and Lovino has Alfred." He flipped the clipboard back to the front and began walking off to the table where he kicked up his legs to watch.

 

"Quick rules: you have two hours. No conversations, models can pick whatever pose they want, and no touching each other. Of course, you're definitely free to do so after; I don't judge."

 

The models all nabbed a stool from the center and assumed their spots in front of their assigned artists. Alfred grinned and sat down, looking a little too comfortable sitting butt-naked on a stool, and Lovino rolled his eyes as he went through several poses, most resembling superheroes. Only after begging for a solid minute did Lovino allow him to hold his arm in the air and pose like a flying Superman. He had no idea how Arthur managed with this guy.

 

Once everyone was ready, Francis cleared his throat, not bothering to leave his chair. "Alright, your time starts...now!"

 

Lovino picked up his stick—they were working in charcoal—and began the outline of Alfred in his ridiculous stance.

 

Every few minutes his eyes would wander to the left, ever so slightly and for just a brief moment to where Antonio was sitting sideways on his stool with his back to Lovino. Jesus _Christ_ , he had a nice ass. That had to be his only feature Lovino would openly say he liked. God help him if he were to stare at the other side. He had to suck in a breath and force his eyes back to Alfred to regain his focus.

 

Lovino glanced at the clock on the far wall; it had already been over an hour. He'd have to get his shit together and stop staring at Antonio. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ he thought, annoyed at himself. It had to be because he was used to drawing him and not Alfred.

 

The American had a strange sense about him. He looked strong, but was obviously more of a jokester than an aggressive person. He must at least like superheroes, Lovino figured. It was comical to him how he was being portrayed as if he were a renaissance figure as a naked Superman. He'd even taken his glasses off to complete the transformation. So he did what he was supposed to and kept painting.

 

With about half an hour left, Lovino stretched out his arms and legs, letting out a long yawn. Toris had finished and was quietly eating a cookie at the dessert table. Roderich was still on his stool, and it looked as if he was ready to fall asleep on the spot. Elizabeta, too, had finished and had just left for the bathroom. Antonio had turned from his position, but stayed seated.

 

Lovino was turning back to his palate when he did a double take. Antonio was staring at _him_ now. He was _watching_ him, and Lovino was stuck frozen in place staring back. Antonio truly resembled a sculpted statue, sitting in a thoughtful position, a look of concentration and curiosity lighting his eyes. Lovino felt a twinge of jealousy about his model not being his to picture this time. Soon his thoughts began growing darker, and his face lit up with embarrassment. He couldn't be thinking sexually about Antonio, _especially_ not when he was sitting right there. No, not ever. He cursed his stupid mind, cursed Antonio for bringing him to those thoughts, letting his anger fuel his momentum as he sped to the end of the allotted time.

 

With five minutes left, he abruptly stood up and forcefully laid down his charcoals on the stool. "I'm done," he announced, and Alfred sighed and relaxed. Lovino marched off of to the bathroom without making any more eye contact with Antonio.

 

Lovino slouched forward at the sink, resting his face in his hands, which were full of cold water. He groaned quietly as he rubbed his eyes. What had happened to keeping a distance between him and that stupid, infuriating Spaniard? All he could do was hope it was a momentary physical attraction. He was just admiring his body, and that was all. No way he was getting to him.

 

When he saw his face in the mirror, he almost laughed. He looked borderline angry, and the ends of his hair were now dripping from the water. The curl on top of his head was standing almost straight up, and he couldn't seem to smooth it down. It never cooperated, anyway.

 

Relief flooded over him when he left the bathroom to see all the models were gone. Francis was looking over all the portraits, nodding occasionally, lost in thought.

 

Lovino saw no reason to stay any longer, and he silently willed Antonio to hurry up so they could leave. He just wanted to go home and sleep, and he wanted to fall asleep before he had time to think anymore.

 

The moment he spotted Antonio's gray shirt he made a beeline for him. "Go tell your weird friend bye, I'll be in the car." He didn't wait for any confirmation and hurried out the back door, walking in a daze to his car.

 

In the car, he turned the air conditioner on and laid back in the seat, sighing. He was overwhelmed by his own mind, and he needed to relax. When Antonio finally joined him on the passenger's side, Lovino opened one eye and glanced at him.

 

"That was interesting, huh?" he said casually. "Less awkward than I thought it would be, definitely."

 

"Mh-hm," Lovino replied. "Didn't expect everyone to up and switch, though."

 

Antonio chuckled. "Yeah, but now that I know Francis is behind it all of it, I can see it happening."

 

Lovino started driving, absentmindedly keeping conversation. "Yeah, you guys are old friends, right?"

 

"Oh yeah, he's great. Also awful, but that's just how we were." Antonio's voice was filled with nostalgia, and Lovino could see he was smiling. That wasn't abnormal for him, but it still twisted something in Lovino's gut.

 

He didn't talk much for the rest of the ride home. When he parked he got out slowly, grateful for the comfortable familiarity of home. He was fine here, and his irritating thoughts had subsided on the way back.

 

He stopped before the door, his hand hovering above the handle. He knew what he was fighting, and he had to push it away himself, and it wasn't fair for him to have forced them to leave so quickly, so he felt the need to apologize. Turning around to face Antonio, he traced his outline for a few moments of silence before speaking.

 

"I'm, uh..." Antonio looked at him quietly, and Lovino felt relief in the easiness of his gaze. "Sorry for rushing out of there. Also, thank you for doing this. All of this. It must be a pain in the ass."

 

"Well, it does get a little sore after sitting down for so long," Antonio replied thoughtfully with a wink. His expression softened, and he smiled. "But no, thank you. I've had a great time with you, and your family. Don't apologize."

 

Lovino laughed quietly. "You should take that, I don't do it often," he said, and opened the door.

 

Once he fully turned, his mouth hung open at the state of his house. The only lights on were in the kitchen, where Lovino spotted the back of his brother's head behind the counter and his niece setting up a small square table in the place of his usual dining table. A white tablecloth was fit perfectly over it with two plates on either side, napkins folded neatly beside them. In the middle sat several lilies and carnations arranged in a small vase next to a red candle, its flame flickering steadily. To top it all off, there was smooth, romantic music playing softly in the background.

 

"Feliciano, I am going to kill you," Lovino muttered under his breath.

 

He snuck a glance at Antonio, who looked astonished. "Did...You two do all this?" he asked.

 

Fiorella ran up to them, bouncing on her toes when she stood before them. "Yeah, we did! It's dinner for you two." The proud look she sported dashed any plans he had to call it off.

 

Feliciano showed up behind her. "She wanted to show off her skills." Lovino wanted nothing more than to slap the smug look off his face. "And you wouldn't want to disappoint her, now would you, Lovi?" Both he and his daughter assumed a sad puppy look, and Lovino sighed.

 

"No..." he huffed in response.

 

"We're not exactly, uh, dressed for dinner," Antonio pointed out. He was in a t-shirt and jeans, and Lovino wasn't much better with paint smudges all over his white shirt.

 

Feliciano giggled. "Oh, Tonio, we're at home. Don't even worry about that and just sit." He grabbed them both by their wrists and led them over to the table.

 

Fiorella cleared her throat and stood up as tall as she could, standing on the empty side of the table. She did look cute trying to be their personal waitress. "Tonight, we have fettuccine alfredo and baked chicken. Because that's all I know how to make."

 

Antonio flashed a grin. "Then I guess we'll both have that. If that's okay with Lovino." He nodded and she scurried off to the kitchen.

 

When Feliciano brought their plates over, he smiled brightly. "I hope you enjoy. Fio and I will be in the studio if you need anything." And he left them in silence, the music the only thing keeping something going on between them.

 

The two looked at each other for a while. The side of Antonio's mouth quirked up in a small smile, and Lovino started laughing. Soon they were both in near hysterics. "I-I'm sorry they get out of hand like this."

 

"I saw it coming eventually." Antonio wiped the tears from his eyes. "They're fun people."

 

"Crazy people," Lovino replied, shaking his head but still smiling. "Alright, let's eat."

 

They ate and chatted for the better part of an hour, and Lovino felt his earlier worries ebb away. Antonio would tell him stupid stories of his childhood and Lovino would reciprocate by sharing his favorite memories of his family. It felt good to talk about their pasts without any tense or upset feelings barring the conversation.

 

Lovino put his fork down as he finished. "We used to have this American guy in the neighborhood, and he was the one who insisted on building that terrible treehouse in the back. One time, when he was working on it, some of the neighborhood boys took all of his tools and hid them in Feliciano's room. When he found them, he started bawling. He even ran outside with all of them and tried to tell the man he stole them in his sleep and he was sorry."

 

"Wow, he really confessed just because he thought he did it?" Antonio yawned. "Do you think those boys targeted him on purpose?"

 

"Probably. He used to be really gullible."

 

Lovino spotted two pairs of eyes peering at him from the doorway and sighed. "I see you two over there."

 

Feliciano practically jumped out from behind the wall. "Oh, you're both done! Let me get those for you." He hurried over and gathered their plates, kicking Lovino's chair in the process. "I'm guessing you had a nice time?"

 

"We did!" Antonio piped up. "Thank you both for the food, it was really great."

 

"You're welcome," Fiorella said. "We have extra for later if you want!"

 

The lights turned back on, causing Lovino to squint; they had made the room really dark.

 

"Okay, now time to clean up the studio. Don’t wanna upset uncle Lovi, do we?" Feliciano began leading his daughter to the back when Lovino stopped him.

 

"What did you do back there?" he asked cautiously.

 

His brother paused. "No, no, we didn't mess anything up. She was just-"

 

"Fingerpainting!" she announced proudly, holding up blue and orange fingers to prove her point.

 

Lovino breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't messed up his things. "Oh, okay."

 

She ran up to him and grabbed his shirt—at least it was already covered in paint—and tugged at it. "You should do some too."

 

"I think I've had enough painting this week to last a lifetime," he replied. It was the truth.

 

The little girl pouted and changed directions. "What about Antonio?"

 

"Me?" His surprised voice matched his expression. "But aren't those your paints?"

 

She nodded. "I'll share."

 

Antonio smiled warmly. "Well…okay. But I'm no good."

 

"Well neither am _I_ , but we can't all be like those two." She pointed accusingly at the two Italian brothers, and Antonio laughed.

 

"Agreed."

 

Xxx

 

Lovino was sputtering laughing through his fingers.

 

Fiorella had decided that paper wasn't enough. So, she moved to painting on Antonio. The poor man now had tomatoes covering his arms, blue swirls along his neck, and a bright yellow sun adorning his forehead. He looked dazed, not fully knowing what was going on. One minute he was innocently painting a house, the next he was a human canvas experiment to a six-year-old girl with loud, upbeat music in the background to set the mood. And Lovino found it absolutely hilarious.

 

"Hey, I think this is an improvement. Keep it up, Fio," he called from the couch. Antonio pouted, only for Fio to squish his cheeks together with hands covered in purple. Lovino and Feliciano both struggled to hold back their laughter.

 

"He's a real sight, huh, Lovi?" his brother whispered, earning him a soft jab to the ribs. "Aw, come on, he's so nice! And you at _least_ have to admit he's attractive."

 

Lovino sighed. "Feliciano, I told you I wasn’t up for another relationship," he said quietly, pointedly not looking at him.

 

Feliciano poked at his arm until he faced him, meeting his sympathetic gaze with an annoyed one. "Come on, Lovi, we both know that wasn’t a real relationship. I know you, okay? You've been really down these past few years. You open up so much around Antonio, and I can just tell you both feel _something_ for each other." Lovino didn't reply, staring past him at the ground. " _Lovino_." He looked up. "Please?"

 

He was at a loss for words. He couldn't just say yes; he wasn't even certain about his feelings. Even still, he was trying to push away that small part of him that wanted to agree. "I...can't," he whispered. "And I think you're wrong; no way in hell he likes me like that. And I don't, either."

 

"Lovi, look, look! I'm done!" He was grateful for the change of subject as the bouncing little girl called for him.

 

He walked over and laughed quietly. "Great job, Fiorella. I think you might even be a better artist than your papa."

 

"Oh, you like it?" Antonio turned his head slightly, looking up at him mischievously. "I say we should match." Before Lovino could recoil, his face was being smushed by the bastard's hands. He shook his head furiously, trying to escape, but Antonio just laughed and grabbed his arms. "You're just making it worse, Lovi!" That idiot was just too strong for him to escape. "Aw, I think it's an improvement!"

 

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo, if you do not let go of me _right now_ , I swear to God I'm gonna—hey!"

 

Fiorella and Feliciano were suddenly on him, too, giggling loudly and covering every exposed inch of skin in paint. "Guys, stop it! Leave me alone, I mean it!" He was starting to feel a bit anxious and trapped between all their hands.

 

"Okay, okay, I think he's had enough," Antonio pointed out carefully. The other two stepped back, and Lovino took a deep breath. They were only still for a moment, though, when Antonio's laughter cut through the silence.

 

"L-Lovi, you look like a tomato exploded all over you." Lovino hugged his arms close, feeling awkwardly exposed, even though the complete opposite was true. He was glad he was already covered in red; he knew his face was most likely competing with the paint to see which could make him look worse.

 

"I absolutely hate all of you. So much," he managed to hiss.

 

He was still sulking when Feliciano yawned and stood up. "Alright, I think it's someone's bed time. I don't know if I'm talking about me or you, but we're both going anyway."

 

"But I'm not tired!" she whined loudly.

 

"Trust me, I think you are. Now let's be quiet and go to bed, okay?" Another victim of Feliciano's sweet voice, she grumbled quietly to herself as she trudged back to her room.

 

"Goodnight…" she trailed off as she went.

 

"Goodnight," both Lovino and Antonio said in unison.

 

Feliciano yawned again. "Night, you two. Oh, I can leave the music on if you want. It's connected to my phone, but I can keep it in here."

 

"I don't care, do whatever with it." Lovino waved his hand dismissively, rubbing at his face with an old rag to try and dull the paint. He hoped it was washable.

 

"Oh, okay. Anything is good."

 

Lovino froze. His brother was definitely up to something.

 

"Well, goodnight, you two!" he said cheerily, and dashed out the room.

 

Antonio stood up, laughing. "What's up with him?"

 

"I have no-"

 

_"You give your hand to me"_

 

"Oh no. No, no, _no_."

 

_"And then you say hello"_

 

Antonio's eyes lit up. "I actually know this song!"

 

Lovino stared at him in bewilderment. "You know this song? By Michael Bublé?"

 

_"And I can hardly speak_

 

_"My heart is beating so"_

 

Antonio nodded quickly. "I do. So-" He used his smile like a weapon, and it caught Lovino right in the chest. "Dance with me."

 

_"And anyone can tell"_

 

"No, no, no, I-I can't dance. I have no balance at all, and I'll just fall, and-"

 

_"You think you know me well"_

 

"Lovi, Lovi, it's okay, I'll catch you if you fall." Antonio pouted hopefully. "Please?"

 

Something came over Lovino. He didn't exactly know what possessed him to want to dance all of a sudden as he took hold of Antonio's hand. Not a second after, he was being pulled towards him, and he stumbled into Antonio, pulling back and looking to his right to avoid eye contact.

 

_"Well, you don't know me"_

 

Lovino tensed as he felt Antonio gently place his hand on his lower back, slowly moving his own hand to the other's shoulder. Terror took over him when they started to sway, and he feared he'd lose his balance again.

 

_"No, you don't know the one_

 

_"Who dreams of you at night"_

 

"Lovino, look at me," Antonio said softly. Lovino turned his eyes up to look into his, knowing fully well he was failing miserably at keeping his cool. "It's alright, it's just a dance. You're doing great."

 

_"And longs to kiss your lips_

 

_"And longs to hold you tight"_

 

He was sure he imagined it, or maybe he was the one who did it, but he could have sworn their grip on each other's hand's tightened ever so slightly.

 

_"Oh, I'm just a friend_

 

_"That's all I've ever been_

 

_"'Cause you don't know me"_

 

Now that he was here, he could breathe. They were just dancing to Lovino's alltime favorite singer. Not his favorite song, but he didn't think it was bad by any stretch of the imagination. When he glanced at the floor he was surprised to find they were slowly gliding across the floor; he was actually staying upright.

 

_"For I never knew_

 

_"The art of making love"_

 

Lovino wondered why the hell Antonio had chuckled at that. He could even feel the slight vibrations from his laughter through his shoulder. It was like an anchor.

 

_"Though my heart aches_

 

_"With love for you"_

 

He finally decided to make eye contact, only to see Antonio was looking past him. At what, though?

 

_"Afraid and shy_

 

_"I let my chance go by_

 

_"A chance that you might_

 

_"Love me, too"_

 

This song had played so many times, and the lyrics had just been nice to listen to. Now, they were starting to get to him. The feeling of sitting back and ignoring his feelings in favor of an easier path was all too familiar a thing to his heart.

 

_"You give your hand to me"_

 

Antonio locked eyes with him, and it seemed neither of them could look away.

 

_"And then you say goodbye"_

 

But he was growing tired. All he ever did was say goodbye. He let his hurt overtake his actions and prevent him from attempting to find comfort in another person.

 

_"I watch you walk away_

 

_"Beside the lucky guy"_

 

Feliciano had been telling him for years that it was okay. That someone out there would be understanding and loyal and treat him as more than a dog on a too-short leash. That someone was worth it. He'd never believed him.

 

_"You'll never know_

 

_"The one who loves you so_

 

_"Well, you don't know me"_

 

Maybe, just maybe, he was wrong—that person could exist.

 

The instrumental started, and Lovino shifted gears. He twirled Antonio around, a faint smirk finding its way onto his face when he saw the shock on the other man's face. Lovino switched positions, deciding he would lead the rest of the song. Antonio complied, switching hands with a smile slowly growing on his face. They lengthened their strides and moved through all the space available to them in the small room, two forces colliding and putting on a show. They weren't swaying anymore—they were dancing.

 

_"For I never knew_

 

_"The art of making love_

 

_"Though my heart aches_

 

_"With love for you"_

 

What was Antonio, again? Lovino still couldn't stop that question from clouding his mind. He was the man who lectured at Lovino's old college. He liked to laugh, but had his insecurities and doubts like everyone else.

 

_"Afraid and shy"_

 

He knew Italian. He was fidgety when he had to sit still for too long, unless he really concentrated. He couldn't cook pizza worth shit.

 

_"I let my chance go by"_

 

Even though Lovino shot him down every chance he could, he would still get back up and keep going. His brother didn't survive a battle Lovino only got lucky with.

 

_"A chance that you might love me too"_

 

He was currently covered in children's markings, half his face was purple, and he still looked wonderful.

 

_"You give your hand to me_

 

_"And then you say goodbye"_

 

Antonio's smile was beginning to fade as the end of the song drew near. This time he was the one who twirled Lovino around, and for the split second their eyes were apart, Lovino felt fear.

 

_"I watch you walk away"_

 

What _would_ they do after the contest? Rationality told him they wouldn't simply drop contacts with other, but fear still grabbed at his heart, and he clung to the sight of the man in front of him, afraid that if he turned again, he'd disappear.

 

_"Beside the lucky guy_

 

_"Oh, you'll never know_

 

_"The one who loves you so_

 

_"You don't know me"_

 

As they began to slow back into a gentle rocking motion, Lovino remembered that he didn't know. And that he wanted to know. But he couldn't learn everything in the few months he'd been around.

 

_"You'll never know"_

 

He was helpless at this point.

 

_"The one who loves you so"_

 

It was too much to deny as they pulled each other close, hands still clasped firmly together, their faces both past each other so that they couldn't look at the other's face.

 

Lovino was undoubtedly in love with him.

 

The moments before the next line felt like an eternity, finally broken by Antonio's hushed voice in his ear, as he whispered the final words of the song: "Well…you don't know me."

 

The song faded out, but they didn't move. Lovino could only conclude one thing at that moment: he needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own this song, which is You Don't Know Me by Michael Bublé. I have been listening to this song for actually months, just waiting to get to this point...damn. But I'm proud of this chapter. Thanks for reading this far! Reviews are always appreciated!


	10. Trustworthy

A quick return from the kitchen with two bottles and glasses in hand, and Lovino was now sitting on his couch, downing his umpteenth glass of wine. He'd been rambling off for some time now, and the only points he remembered involved what pissed him off about the color of grass.

 

"Lovi, you sure you should drink that whole thing?" Antonio set his own glass down, meeting Lovino with a worried and sympathetic gaze. He was already moving to the second one when he replied.

 

"I'm not, you're drinking it, too, dumbass; why do I gotta tell you these things?" he grumbled with an added eye roll. "And it's not Lovi, it's Lovino, bastard."

 

Antonio yawned. "What do you really have against that nickname?"

 

Lovino paused, trying to recall the answer. He never really could distinguish between what he regularly forgot and what drinking made him forget. "I think...Feliciano just uses it too much," he finally managed to say. He didn't want to think of the real reason.

 

"But you still let him call you that." Antonio sounded a bit amused, which only pissed off Lovino that much more.

 

"Yeah, well he doesn't give up, so I'm giving up."

 

"But you don't always correct me when I do it." His mouth quirked up in a small smile; he was obviously pleased with his observation.

 

Lovino huffed angrily. "I do not let you call me that."

 

"Yeah, you do. I've been calling you that for the past two months, Lovi."

 

Had he? Lovino couldn't remember.

 

At last he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't say anything. He was sure he'd had this conversation before.

 

"Do I need to tell you why I don't like it to get you to shut up?" he finally asked, having scrambled together why he thought it was a problem. The question was met with a happy nod.

 

Lovino sighed. "Fine. Okay, so there was this little asshole that lived by me as a kid. Let's just call him…shit, I dunno, Pierro. So Pierro and I were friends and all that, and Feli usually played along with us." Antonio looked intrigued, leaning forward in his seat. With a small laugh at how dumb he thought the other man looked, Lovino continued. "One of those bastards—hell if I know which one—started calling me Lovi, and the other caught on, and from that day forward those idiots just would not stop calling me that." He huffed angrily and crossed his arms, puffing his cheeks out like a child. "It annoyed me half to death, so I started calling Feliciano, Feli. But he just thought it was cute, so my plan to annoy him back didn't work."

 

Antonio seemed to find this incredibly amusing, much to Lovino's dismay. He was trying to get him to stop, not laugh. Damn alcohol. It was beginning to fuel his rage, and he was mad before he could catch himself.

 

"Alright, you wanna talk about how pathetic I am? I can't even remember my childhood best friend's name," Lovino snapped, earning an alarmed look from Antonio. "You ever spent a really long time with someone, made a bunch of memories, and not even be able to remember what the guy looks like?!" His face felt hot and wet, but he wasn't fully processing that he was crying. And he couldn't stop. "I can tell you so much about the most insignificant things, I know certain events happened to me at some point in my childhood, I remember a stupid dance, going to the lake with my friends, playing in that god-forsaken treehouse. But I forgot about a bunch of other shit I did. I forgot entire people that I've experienced those things with. I woke up in that hospital bed, and I barely even recognized my own brother, Antonio." Some part of his mind was screaming at him to shut up, to stop rambling about things Antonio already knew. His head felt fuzzy, and he just wanted to cry, but he kept on talking, and all the while Antonio remained silent.

 

"I tried, you know. To remember. I feel so guilty that I just forgot all those people. My family refused to tell me about some of them; they said my friends were gone, and it wouldn't do me any good to try and reach out and start over." Lovino felt his heart squeeze at the memories. His grandpa had looked almost scared when his grandson would bring up the matter. He'd switch to a look of grief, something Lovino couldn't quite place mingled in with the expression. And here Antonio was, sitting across from him, somehow managing to read his mind and match that exact expression. Lovino was drunk, and it wasn't helping him to figure it out now. Meanwhile, Antonio had finally chosen to speak, the hesitation in his voice almost palpable.

 

"So…what did you do?" he asked cautiously.

 

Lovino laughed dryly. "When 'painting out my feelings' stopped working, I got out the house and tried to meet someone to stop me from feeling guilty. I thought that I could pull some magic bullshit, find a guy, forget about the others. That...didn't go down well. He was an asshole to me, and I just went with it." A sigh escaped him, followed by a hiccup. "He got me to move in with him for a few months, and he stopped treating me like my own person." He rubbed subconsciously at his arms, suppressing a shudder. "God, and I just let him have sex with me whenever, just because he would treat me nice enough to make me feel bad for doubting him. I was being an idiot, I felt too sorry for myself, and it took me a lot of willpower to realize it was bad and leave. One day I just packed up all my shit and moved here to study art. I had to borrow money from my grandpa, and he got pissed that I didn't tell him what was going on. And I don't really blame him. I mean, I haven't even painted much since I graduated. I'm not going anywhere. I was just trying to copy my little brother."

 

Another sip, and he had officially drained the bottle of wine. "I only ever told Feli about that guy."

 

The last of the drink had assured his vision was effectively fuzzy. His anger was gone, leaving him feeling hollow, but it looked to him like that anger had just transferred to Antonio. His face was set into a hard frown—no, it was more of a scowl—and he looked ready for murder. Was there still paint on his face? What was he so adamantly furious about?

 

"Did…you want the rest of the wine? Because I think I drank it all, and the rest is also mine for later," he tried.

 

"Lovino, you…I can't say anything, because you already know that was bad! And on top of that, you're crazy drunk!" Antonio laughed to himself, one hand entangled in his hair, the other absently tapping on his leg. At some point in all that, he had stood up. "Oh god, I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I mean, It's not like you'll remember any of it, anyway!" The moment the words passed his lips, he threw his hand over his mouth. But he had already said it.

 

Lovino's eyes went wide. Sure, he was probably right—it was already starting to escape him—but the tone of Antonio's voice left him in a temporary shock. And just like that the tears were back. Damn, pathetic as ever, he thought. But he didn't want to say anything, instead hugging a couch pillow close to his chest and tracing the patterns with a finger.

 

He felt something heavy shift the couch to his left. Antonio's hand brushed Lovino's shoulder, but he jerked away from him.

 

"Lovi, I'm sorry, I…I shouldn't have said that." He sounded remorseful enough, but Lovino didn't feel like hearing it. This was all just a bad idea. He didn't care what Antonio did, he just wanted to talk about it later. Or not at all.

 

As he sniffled into his pillow, he remained unaware of his blackening vision. Antonio's argument was slipping from his sleep-deprived, drunk mind. As soon as his eyelids completely fluttered shut, he allowed himself to slump forward from his seated position. Or, rather, he just let his limbs move freely as they pleased.

 

"You can tell me to go home, if you want. I won't be offended," he heard a distant voice ask gently.

 

He envisioned a soft cloud, carrying him away from his problems. But before he could drift too far, he called out, "No drunk driving for you. We don't all…need to be in car accidents, here…."

 

Antonio's soft chuckle sounded closer than he thought it would. "I think I could handle it, don't you worry. But okay, I won't go." Maybe it was his words, maybe it wasn't, but Lovino felt a comforting warmth surround him.

 

The room remained silent for a while. Suddenly, Antonio spoke up again. "Can I tell you something? It's kind of about an artist, which is really cliché of me, and it might turn in to a bunch of different stories, but I hope it'll help." Lovino made a soft noise as a cue to continue. "Thank you. Don't worry, I'll do all the talking." He listened as Antonio took a deep and shaky breath.

 

"Alright. You know that when I was a kid, I wanted to be an artist. We moved out of Spain when I was eight years old, and my parents bought me a lot of coloring books to pass the time. I managed to make some friends, and I got to draw with them all the time. It was a lot of fun, really. But by the time I was a teenager, I realized I wasn't good enough for it, so I left it to one of my other friends to succeed." He paused, and Lovino imagined there was a distant look in his eyes. "He was really good, considering we were just kids. He's actually the one who convinced me to do something at least related to art.

 

"Oh, but I also found a bunch of stories about different inspirational people. You know what, you're probably too tired to hear it, so I'll email you some." Antonio's voice grew closer, yet softer. "Goodnight. I'll clean up back there."

 

Good…Lovino thought. It's your mess, too.

 

He finally fell asleep. He was cozy, back at home with his old dog snuggled against his chest. Something light and warm touched his forehead, and he smiled despite himself. For now, he was comfortable.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning was hell. Lovino slept in as long as he could make himself, but eventually dragged himself to the bathroom to shower, his left foot aching from the over exertion of dancing. On top of that, he'd fallen asleep practically slathered in paint, and had to begrudgingly spend the majority of his shower scrubbing it off. At least nobody had forcefully woken him up.

 

Head still throbbing, he glanced outside at the front of the house. Three cars—Antonio was still here, somewhere.

 

He went several hours watching a movie with Fiorella, working on his color blending, and gathering laundry without even so much as hearing him. Where the hell did he go? he found himself wondering. He doubted he had much of a hangover, considering Lovino had taken most of the wine for himself.

 

"Fiorella, where's your papa?" he asked her in the midst of the quiet.

 

"He was in our room this morning," she replied without looking up from her stuffed animals.

 

Lovino knew he should head out back to hang up the clothes, but his curiosity took hold of his limbs, and he found himself walking in the other direction, towards his brother's room.

 

Were they talking to each other? It was the only room he hadn't checked today, which left if the only possible place they could both be. And, if so, what the hell were they talking about?

 

From what he could see through the door, there was only a small amount of light; most likely, it was from the bedside lamp. The only other thing he could decipher from his position that there were, indeed, hushed whispers finding their way through the crack in the door. He moved closer, basket of clothes still in hand, and nearly held his breath in his strain to hear.

 

"…but that's not working, Feliciano. I've been trying since I saw him, but I don't think he's getting it."

 

Antonio? Lovino had an inkling he was the subject of their conversation. He felt a chill run down his spine. His senses were telling him to get out, that it wasn't his conversation to hear, but his feet stayed rooted to the spot.

 

Feliciano responded, a little louder and more optimistic than Antonio. "No, no, I think he's starting to understand! Trust me, you just have to give him time-"

 

"But what if he doesn't, Feli?!" Antonio nearly shouted, immediately followed by a chiding 'shh!' from Feliciano.

 

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. It's just…I don't know what to do. It's been months, and he still looks at me the same way he did back then." Antonio sounded so dejected, so…heartbroken. Lovino actually was holding his breath now, as Antonio's voice was suddenly an almost inaudible whisper. "What if I'm already out of time?"

 

The silence that followed was terrifying. What had Lovino done to hurt him like that? His mind was racing, and his heart was beating so loud he feared it would give away his position, though he didn't know if it was the effect of adrenaline or hurt. He had half a mind to charge in there and demand an explanation when Feliciano spoke up once more.

 

"Antonio, I understand that it's hard to live with." He hesitated, but inhaled deeply and continued. "But you have to tell him sooner or later."

 

Tell me what?

 

"I…I know. You're right. But what if he doesn't take it well?"

 

Lovino heard the bed creak—one of them had stood up. Fear kicked in, and he backed up straight into the other wall, nearly tripping over himself in the process. Though he could find a way to justify himself, he didn't want to be caught snooping. Gripping the sides of the basket tighter, he turned the corner just as he heard footsteps echo through the hallway.

 

Feliciano was speaking at his normal volume now, the earlier seriousness in his tone gone. "Don't worry about it, Tonio. I've got faith it'll all work out in the end!"

 

Lovino managed to sneak out back without being seen by the two, not counting Fiorella, who saw him and simply shrugged. He faced himself pointedly away from the house as he hung up the clothes, consumed with conflicted thoughts and feelings he wished he could hang up alongside the shirts.

 

Why was Antonio so upset? They were hiding something from him, but what? If it was something worth getting that distraught over, Lovino wasn't sure he wanted to know.

 

The sky outside was clear as ever, and he laughed at the contrast to his clouded mind. It wasn't long before he began wondering about the possibilities of what rooted this whole mess. It was connected to him somehow, so had he done something wrong? If he did, he would gladly apologize for it; knowing Antonio was unhappy about something he did was creating a heavy weight in his heart.

 

He thought back to last night, and his arms fell to his sides, laundry forgotten. Their dance had felt so right, so connected. Was it just him that had felt those things?

 

The end of the song surfaced to the top of his memories, followed by a sharp pain in his skull. You don't know me. He winced, both from the words and the unwanted infliction. Even after all that, Lovino had stupidly yelled at him just for asking a simple question, which probably did nothing in earning him likeability points. Maybe he really was trying to say he didn't like him. Maybe he was ready to say goodbye. Even still, Lovino chose to cling to that small chance that he really did like him. He did, and he just had something else to say. All he knew was that whatever was about to come, he would handle it.

 

"Lovino!"

 

He jumped at his brother's voice, nearly pulling down the clothesline with him. Annoyed once more, he whirled around to face him.

 

"Why the fuck do you always have to scare me like that?!" he yelled.

 

Feliciano pouted. "But I haven't seen you all day."

 

"That's not an excuse."

 

With a loud sigh, Feliciano waved him over. "Just come on, okay?"

 

Lovino gave up and followed him back to his room. The same room, he noted, that he and Antonio had just used as a secret space to possibly plot against him.

 

Stop thinking that, he internally scolded himself.

 

Once inside, Lovino intentionally switched on the room light in hopes of creating a better atmosphere for their conversation.

 

Feliciano sat himself down on the bed and smiled up at him, but Lovino stayed standing with his arms folded across his chest.

 

"Okay, what is it?" he asked.

 

"You don't have to look so mad, you know. I was just gonna ask you something." He pouted, and Lovino sighed. He could almost feel the atmosphere growing tenser as he prepared himself to speak.

 

"I heard you two talking about me."

 

Feliciano stiffened. "H-How much did you hear?" He sounded worried, but Lovino wasn't sure who for.

 

Lovino forced himself to look indifferent. "Enough to know that you're hiding something from me. Both of you. So I suggest just telling me."

 

"It's nothing, really! I'm handling it, so don't worry." Feliciano waved him off. "But I was going to ask you about something else. You know how-"

 

"No, Feli," he snapped. "What the hell gives you the right to take over in something I am perfectly capable of doing?"

 

His brother's features looked stunned, and it took him a few moments to speak. "Lovi, I-I was just trying to help. It's not that big of a deal, and I just thought I could help him so you wouldn't have to." His features fell, but Lovino couldn't give in. Not until he got his point across.

 

"Feliciano, you've always done way too much for me, ever since that accident. You tried to take my place in every situation, and I can't say I'm not grateful for that, but I'm supposed to be the older brother, here! I couldn't be there for you when I needed, and it's my fault for not correcting that sooner. But Antonio is my friend, and he's upset," Lovino said, struggling to maintain his speaking volume as he watched Feliciano's eyes grow lost. Of all the times he'd tried to explain this in the past, this was the moment he needed his brother to understand.

 

"This...this is the first time since the accident that someone's relying on me. It's always been me having to get help because I couldn't walk right, I couldn't breathe properly, and I needed someone just to go and fucking get me a glass of water. You all refuse to believe I'm better now, and you think I'm just some weak sucker who needs his hand held across every street." Lovino took a deep breath to calm himself down. He knew it wouldn't do good to start yelling.

 

"Antonio is going through some shit, too, and he doesn't treat me like I can't handle it. Ever since I met him, it's been this weird jumble of laughing and hurting and all kinds of other messes. Maybe it's just me, but I can feel that we're able to trust each other, just enough. So please, this one fucking time...let me handle it."

 

The room fell quiet enough for the sounds of Antonio's guitar and Fiorella's singing to reach their ears. But Lovino wasn't paying attention to that. Breaking it, Feliciano stood up, walked over to him, and pulled him into a crushing hug.

 

"Okay," he whispered, sniffling into his shirt. Lovino embraced him silently, letting him cry. He seemed relieved to be taking a break, and Lovino's heart ached at seeing how much of a burden he'd placed on his little brother.

 

"We'll both be better, alright?" he murmured, earning a nod from Feliciano.

 

As he calmed down, Lovino stroked his hair softly, wondering what to do next. He'd stood his ground and condemned himself to the task of talking to Antonio first, but he had no clue what to actually say.

 

Hey there, I heard you talking about me, tell me why you're upset. Oh, and I think I'm in love with you. As if that would go down well. He hated to admit it, but he was nervous.

 

"So I guess you won't tell me what's going on, first?" he ventured.

 

Feliciano giggled and wiped his eyes, shaking his head. "You'll want to hear it from him, not me."

 

Lovino opened his mouth to argue when he heard a shrill voice call his name from the other room. With a sigh, he shouted, "Coming, Fiorella!", gave a last quick hug to Feliciano and made his way to the back room.

 

When he reached the kitchen he started to clearly hear Antonio's guitar playing its soft, lulling song. Without a clear plan, or even end goal, he decided to do the only thing he really knew how—he was going to draw him.

 

Antonio was sitting on the couch, lazing back and plucking his guitar with ease and a near graceful demeanor. It very nearly slipped Lovino's mind that he needed to speak to him seriously.

 

"You needed to see me, Fio?" he asked calmly. She responded by shaking her head and pointing to the smiling Spaniard.

 

"He did," she said. "I can just yell louder." And with that she stood up and left, presumably to find her father.

 

Lovino grabbed his sketchbook and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. "Okay, but I'm practicing. What did you need?" he asked, looking down at the paper and curving his pencil along.

 

Antonio took a deep breath. He sounded nervous, and he was still playing; it almost looked like it was helping to calm him down.

 

"There's been a lot of...misunderstandings? Maybe that's not the word. Stuff I haven't told you, more like." His gaze travelled between the guitar frets and Lovino every so often.

 

Still sketching, Lovino tried his best to keep from looking disheartened. He could hope, even just a little.

 

"I guess I can start with last night," he finally said, laying his arm across the body of his guitar—he'd stopped playing.

 

Lovino spoke first. "Before you do, I need to apologize for getting so upset. I should've controlled myself better."

 

Antonio's expression softened, and he smiled. "No need, I understand. It was a bad time you had to remember, and you got pretty drunk." His face quickly contorted into a look of malice that made Lovino's blood run cold. "But if I ever run into that man that hurt you, he's gonna regret it."

 

"Don't go through the trouble; he's not worth it, okay?" Lovino sighed. "But okay, go on. What were you about to say?"

 

With a small hum, Antonio resumed his playing while Lovino continued to sketch him, relaxing into the melancholic sound. One of his problems he aimed to fix was that he couldn't quite figure out his facial features.

 

"This is pretty unusual," Antonio said, followed by a quick, forced laugh. "I have no idea how to say this."

 

There he was again. That sad, confused Spaniard who looked so at a loss for words. Lovino tried to conjure up a way to reach out to him with some form of comfort, but there was still a barrier he felt between them. He wanted desperately to find a way to reach around it; no, he wanted to smash it into a million pieces until there was nothing keeping him away. But he still needed to finish his sketch.

 

Leaning over, Lovino placed both hands on Antonio's cheeks, willing himself not to smile at Antonio's bewildered expression.

 

"Lovi, what are you doing?" he muttered through squished cheeks, wincing when he shifted back into the couch. "I think I'm sitting on a pencil."

 

"Shut up and hold still, I'm studying your face lines." Lovino ran his thumb along Antonio's cheekbone, noting how soft his skin felt beneath his fingers. His emerald eyes were boring into Lovino's skull, though he supposed that was his own fault for surprising him and getting so close. So close he could smell his lingering morning breath and trace the shadows over his dark skin. His hair certainly looked longer than it had their first meeting, as it was reaching over his ears and sticking up in more places than usual. He looked messy, yet perfect.

 

Lovino's hands rested on the sides of his chin, and they gazed at each other for what felt like a century before he leaned forward to close the short gap, pulling his face towards his and meeting their lips together in a gentle kiss. Antonio's eyes fluttered closed, and Lovino felt the edge of his guitar press into his abdomen where he felt a fire flare up inside him. Antonio's lips were soft and warm, and welcoming. It wasn't the most amazing, but certainly the most pleasant kiss he'd had in a while.

 

When they backed away, Lovino was fairly certain his face had grown an unimaginable shade of red, but he stayed where he was. The astonished smile Antonio adorned made his chest tighten, and he couldn’t resist smiling back, if only a little. He'd actually done it.

 

"Did you study my face enough?" Antonio finally managed to ask with a well-placed chuckle.

 

"Maybe," he replied. "I think I've got it for now."

 

Antonio seemed to brighten. "'For now'?" he repeated. "I can have another one?"

 

Lovino leaned back into his spot on the couch with his sketchbook laying snugly on his legs. "Not now, you can't. Ask again later." As much as he was reveling in the discovery that his feelings were being reciprocated, he wasn't about to change his entire disposition because of it.

 

He quietly finished his drawing while Antonio stared at him, still apparently dazed. His face began to fall when Lovino announced he was done.

 

"You okay?" he asked, putting the sketchbook aside.

 

"Lovino, I..." he trailed off.

 

Lovino looked down. Something was still bothering him. "You know you can tell me if something's wrong, stupid."

 

Antonio laughed somewhat. "I should, shouldn't I?" To Lovino's surprise, he stood up and put away his guitar, averting the confused Italian's gaze.

 

"I have to leave," he announced softly. "I have a lecture tomorrow, and I need to make sure I have everything together."

 

"Okay," Lovino said carefully. "Go on ahead."

 

With a final goodbye and a half-real smile, Antonio left the room. Lovino heard him say a few words to Feliciano before the door closed.

 

There was something else going on with him, and Lovino felt more worried than ever. Feliciano tiptoed into the room, peeking around the corner. "Did anything happen?" he questioned.

 

"Well...for a start, I kissed him."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, what's wrong with our dear Toni? Guess we'll see.  
> Announcement! I've made a Tumblr blog for writing updates, so if you're interested in keeping up and seeing little bits of upcoming chapters, go follow me on pidge-writes. I'm definitely up for any questions or comments on there!


	11. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm saying it now: I'm sorry.

_The car was a confinement. And it was determined to keep its prisoner hostage until he either suffocated or died of restless boredom._

 

_"Do we have to go?" Antonio whined._

_His mother was the one that spoke up from the passenger's seat. "For the last time, we do," she stated firmly. "Now stop complaining, we'll be there soon."_

 

_Antonio's lip trembled, and he struggled keep his voice from cracking. "But we can still turn back, right?" She didn't answer._

_The boy had cried his eyes out before the drive. He'd begged not to leave his friends behind, but to no avail. They had already made him learn the language and bought the house. He and his family were moving to Italy._

 

_From the beginning of the long ride, he had set himself up to be in a bad mood. Even when his older brother tried to cheer him up with terrible jokes, Antonio only pouted and tried his best to color inside the lines of his coloring book, despite the shaky roads that made his strokes jagged. He had half a mind to throw the book out the window out of pure spite._

_When they finally arrived, it was early evening. Antonio did the bare minimum he could get away with in helping to unpack, and he didn't hesitate to grumble about what he did do. Dragging his suitcase upstairs was the last step in admitting he couldn't go back._

_Sitting outside, he had to admit the place was pretty. There was a huge field all around the houses, and he thought he could see water in the distance. The garden was well kept, too. At least they weren't living in a dump._

_A bought of giggling caught his attention. He stood up and turned around, but he couldn't see anyone._

_"Who's there?" he called out._

_A head of reddish-brown hair poked out from around the corner of his house. They watched each other for a few moments before the child stepped into full view. He was a little boy, Antonio assumed around five or six years old, eyes filled with wondrous curiosity._

_"Who are you?" Antonio questioned. "Do you live around here?"_

_The boy nodded and smiled brightly. "Over there." He pointed to the home two houses down and scurried over to where Antonio was still standing on the steps. "You're new!"_

_Antonio managed to smile in return, not wanting to seem rude. "Yes, I am. I just moved here."_

_The boy, seemingly overjoyed at his discovery, squealed and took ahold of his arm, tugging him in the direction of his house. "Great! You have to meet my brother, he's seven!"_

_He was certainly eager to get to his point. But there was another kid here? And he was almost his age? Overcome with a sudden excitement, he stopped letting himself be dragged along and kept up pace with the energetic boy._

_They dodged the side of his house in favor of reaching the back, Antonio beginning to feel a little short of breath after their extensive run. The little boy slowed down to a tiptoe in a matter of seconds, and Antonio almost ran right into him._

_"Hush, he's asleep!" he warned._

_Antonio nodded. He knew how to sneak up on a person; he'd practiced on his brother all the time back home. He put those skills to use as he trailed the small boy who was now hopping up onto the veranda._

_From what he could see, there was a couch past the two tables facing out towards the field that sat behind the house. That looked to be their destination._

_A small creak in the wood halted his little escapade—the other boy just kept walking. He stood on the side of the couch, blocking Antonio's view from where he was standing. He waved him over, bright smile easing his mind. He made his way over at a slower pace to his side, and they both covered their mouths to suppress their giggling._

_The boy on the couch was sprawled out in an unfashionable manner, and there was a puddle of drool accumulating on the couch cushion below his mouth. He had a striking resemblance to his younger brother, aside from his darker hair. Antonio thought he looked goofy, and both boys simultaneously reached to poke his cheek._

_The instant they touched his face, he shot up from his sleeping position, screamed, and fell onto the floor, while the other two erupted into cackling hysterics._

_"What the hell, you guys?!" he screamed. "And who the fuck are you?" He jabbed an accusing finger in Antonio's direction._

_"Nonno said no swearing!" the smaller of the two cried out, to which the other responded by puffing out his cheeks and rubbing his head where he hit the ground._

_"Well, Nonno is on vacation, so I can do whatever I want," he muttered, sticking his tongue out._

_Antonio smiled brightly. "I'm sorry we woke you. I can leave, if you want. I live right there!" He gestured in what he thought was the direction of his home. "You can visit, if you want to."_

_The boy looked at him with mild surprise. "Oh," he said. "Well, now I can't sleep, and it's your fault...so you can't leave. That's your punishment."_

_He grabbed Antonio's wrist and pulled him in the direction of the door, the younger one merrily skipping behind. What was with these siblings and dragging him around?_

_He didn't get much of a look inside as he was pulled to the boys' bedroom at a faster pace than his eyes could adjust to, but from what he could tell it was a pretty home._

_When they closed the door, the smaller one immediately sat on the floor, patting the ground next to him for Antonio to sit._

_The brothers sat opposite of him, staring him down. Not knowing what to do, Antonio smiled and waved hesitantly. The small boy giggled, while the other continued to scrutinize him._

_"What's your name?" he finally asked._

_"Uh...Antonio."_

_The boy leaned forward. "Okay, Antonio. I'm giving you permission to come play with us. It's a secret club, so you can't invite anyone unless we all agree. Agreed?"_

_Antonio's eyes widened. He'd never been invited into a club before. And yet here he was, already in on day one. "Agreed." He nodded, face serious._

_The boy relaxed and smiled, leaning back against the bed. "Good. What do you want to do, first?"_

_"Oh, we can finish my puzzle!" The younger boy leapt to his feet and dashed to the small table in the corner. "I'm almost finished!"_

_Antonio agreed, and the three of them helped to put all the pieces together. They spent the next several hours making up games and running around, and it was almost dark before Antonio realized his parents would likely start to get worried if he didn't show up soon._

_"I'm sorry, I have to go. Can I come back tomorrow?" he asked, voice filled with hope._

_With a small pout and a nod, the siblings nodded. "But, remember, secret club."_

_"Got it!"_

_Back home, Antonio's mother looked up from her book and smiled as he walked through the door._

_"Where did you run off to earlier? I half thought you tried to run back to Spain." She laughed at her own joke, and Antonio giggled along._

_"I met a boy my age, Mamá," he said proudly._

_She placed her bookmark in between the pages and set down the book. "Did you, now? Who is it?"_

_Antonio beamed. "His name's Lovino!"_

* * *

_"Hey, Antonio, could you pass me that hammer right there?"_

_"Got it!"_

_The man working to piece together the large slats of wood had a funny American accent. He'd promised the boys he'd make them a treehouse in the large trees he had behind his house to use as their secret base for their club, and Antonio had eagerly volunteered to help._

_He was the only one working on it as Lovino had stayed behind that day, helping Feliciano to give his new dog a bath. Antonio had wanted to join them, but he'd already promised to help finish the treehouse. In the end, he didn't really mind; he knew the dog would get dirty again very quickly._

_When it was finally complete, Antonio stared in awe. It was the coolest thing he'd ever seen, with a little ladder and a rope and even its own window, though it was only a square in the wall with no glass._

_"I think it looks pretty good!" the man—his name was James—said, not putting forth any effort to conceal his pride._

_"Me too!" Antonio agreed. "Can I live in it?" he asked eagerly._

_James laughed. "I don't think so, no. It wouldn't be super comfortable."_

_Antonio sighed. He was right._

_Soon his eyes brightened. "Oh, I have to tell Lovi it's done! He said he didn't care, but he still made me promise to get him first when we finished."_

_"Well, don't keep him waiting." James dusted off his pants and began gathering his tools together. "I'll have Lily make you boys something to eat."_

_Antonio shouted a thanks over his shoulder as he rushed over to Lovino's house. It was a shorter distance that from his own house, as this one was in between the two._

_He ran around to the back, where he spotted the two boys wrestling to keep their little Spaniel in the tub._

_When the puppy spotted Antonio running towards them, she went ballistic. With a burst of energy, she leapt out of the tub, soaking wet and full of suds, and charged towards him. Feliciano shrieked for help and gave chase, but Lovino was too busy laughing to join him._

_"Biscotto, no! Come back, you're not done with your bath!" Feliciano cried out. Antonio stopped and let her run to him, laughing and petting the wet dog as she jumped up on his legs._

_"Come on, girl, let's get you back." Antonio picked her up and carried her back to the tub while Feliciano chastised her._

_With Biscotto back in the water and Feliciano once again rubbing soap on her back, Antonio sat beside Lovino to watch._

_"I think she likes you," Lovino stated._

_"Aw, you think?" Antonio laughed. "I think she just wanted out of the bath."_

_Lovino rolled his eyes. "Probably."_

_Antonio jumped up suddenly, surprising all three present. "Oh, right! The treehouse is finished!"_

_Lovino's eyes widened. "Woah, already?" He grinned along with Antonio. "Then what the hell are we waiting for? Club meeting!"_

_Antonio helped the siblings to dry off the dog before they left, not wanting to leave Feliciano to the task himself. After all, he was only eight._

_Biscotto trailed beside them as they hurried to James' house. She was bouncing along, and Antonio guessed she was just as excited as all of them. She'd be a good member._

_With cookies made by Lily and a struggle to lift the dog up into the treehouse, the boys situated themselves inside their new clubhouse._

_The floor was considerably wide, enough to let all of them to sit comfortably with a good distance between them. The doorframe and window let in enough light, but still have some shade to hide from the sun. And it proved to be a nice place to eat._

_They hadn't really planned this meeting, but even with a mouth full of crumbs, Lovino looked determined to speak first. Had he already been thinking about this?_

_"Alright, club. We're here to talk about our new meeting spot, right here," he began. "The three of us—"_

_"Hey!" Feliciano interjected holding up Biscotto's paws._

_Lovino sighed. "_ Four _of us, will try to meet here to talk about stuff. Can't trust parents with our secrets."_

_Antonio nodded. His mother hated secrets being kept from her, and the other two both knew it._

_"What if nobody else is here?" Feliciano piped up._

_"Then either you wait, or go get who you want to talk to," his older brother responded with a definite nod. "And we all need to check as much as possible in case on of us is here."_

_Biscotto scurried out of Feliciano's lap and sniffed around as Lovino was talking. Antonio stopped paying attention to what he was saying as he watched her wander a little to close to the edge. Swiftly, he scooped her up and set her back down in Feliciano's lap, who looked up at him with eyes shining with admiration._

_"Hey, Antonio!"_

_"Huh?"_

_"I asked you if you wanted to help me decorate in here," Lovino said, rolling his eyes._

_He nodded eagerly. Anything to do with something artistic, he was up for._

_It wasn't long before the inside walls had pinned-up drawings all over. Their pictures varied from people to birds and trees, and they were all drawn by Antonio and Lovino. Feliciano refused to take any of his out of his sketchbook, saying they belonged there and his mind wouldn't be changed on it._

_"Lovi, I really like yours. Do you have any more to put up?" Antonio questioned._

_"I thought I told you not to call me that, bastard. But I think we have enough in here," he said, looking around in appreciation. "I like the bookshelf," he pointed out._

_It was something Antonio had asked for. He kept their collective sketchbooks there, as well as the club journal, where they wrote down anything major that was going on. The most major thing that had actually happened, however, was Antonio's arrival, so there wasn't much in it yet._

_Antonio nodded in agreement. "I like it, too."_

_With a yawn, Lovino started heading down the ladder. "See, you soon, Antonio."_

_"You, too, Lovi!"_

_"It's Lovino!"_

* * *

_By the color of the sky and the growing winds, Antonio could tell it was fixing to rain._

_His mother had confined him to his room, and he wasn't to come out at all that night except to eat dinner. She'd caught him in an attempt to sneak out the back door instead of finishing his homework, so all he had to do now was stare out the window._

_"Is this about that Vargas boy again? I already told you I don't like you hanging around him!" she'd yelled. It hurt Antonio to hear that his best friend was thought of as a bad person around here._

_He sighed, resting his chin on his palm. Actually he'd only wanted to take a break by laying outside before the storm. It gave him a sort of thrill to be in the field right before the rain hit, and he reveled in the exhilaration. It was the most exciting thing he really did here._

_A door closed downstairs, and he perked up. His mother went to sleep early, and his father was never far behind. He could get out now._

_Making as minimal noise as he could, Antonio inched his way out into the hallway and down the stairs. His older brother was on the phone in the kitchen with his girlfriend, completely oblivious of the outside door opening and the fourteen-year-old slipping through the crack._

_Once outside, Antonio took his time strolling around, smiling to himself at his successful escape. His house was feeling tense as of late, and he was glad to be out. The air smelled like rain, which had always helped to brighten him up, however odd that seemed to his mother._

_Soon he found himself at the base of the treehouse. It was as good a place as ever to get away and relax; that's what they'd built it for._

_He climbed the ladder with ease and stretched with a yawn when he reached the top. He only hoped he wouldn't fall asleep in here._

_"Hey."_

_Antonio nearly fell off the edge he jumped so quickly. Lovino had his back pressed to the corner, and he was sniffling and rubbing his eyes with his jacket sleeve. He was trying to cover up his tears, and he was doing a terrible job of it. Antonio was by his side in seconds._

_"Lovino, what's wrong?" he asked softly, all earlier wishes put aside._

_Lovino sniffled again, still rubbing his nose raw. Antonio gently pulled his hand away from his face, not wanting him to hurt himself._

_"Lovino?" he asked again. "Do you want to talk?"_

_He got a feeble headshake in response. Antonio nodded slowly. "Okay, no problem. We can just sit here, if that's what you want."_

_The Italian boy continued averting his gaze. He didn't seem like he'd do much else, so it surprised Antonio when he leaned his head against his shoulder. Lovino's hair felt soft against Antonio's skin, and it was cold from the chill outside. The rest of him, however, remained comfortingly warm._

_Antonio watched through the small door as it finally started to rain. The distant noise almost covered up Lovino's whispering voice as he spoke._

_"Toni, am I a good person?"_

_Antonio almost didn't know how to respond. Why would he ask a question like that? His voice betrayed his fear, and Antonio felt his heart break at how weak he sounded._

_Then he remembered what his parents had agreed on. That Lovino was a bad influence, and he would slowly start to twist Antonio's mind if they continued spending too much time together._

_"Of course you are," Antonio finally said, inwardly cursing himself for hesitating. "Is someone saying mean things to you, Lovi? Because I can go fight them off for you, if they are."_

_Lovino laughed only a little, but Antonio could feel it against his shoulder. It made him feel a little better._

_"I'm serious! You're my best friend, so I'd definitely do it." Antonio grinned. "Just tell me who."_

_"It's not that, dumbass," he grumbled, hugging Antonio's arm to his chest and closing his eyes. "But thank you."_

_Antonio smiled softly. "Anytime."_

_The rain was coming down harder by the minute. They sat in silence, watching it blur out the rest of the world. The papers on the walls were just barely holding on, and Antonio was surprised they'd stayed there for as long as they had. He nearly laughed at how bad all the drawings were, though he understood that they were made by a couple of ridiculous kids. A moment's thought reminded him that he still wasn't any good at drawing. He suppressed a sigh. It had always been his dream to pursue art, but he knew when to quit. His mother certainly found it to be a wasteful hobby, and it would be difficult to change her mind on anything._

_His mind began to wander away with the silence. Should he really just give up? That would prove to be difficult; he loved it too much. He wracked his brain for a solution, anything that could keep his dream intact, even if it meant interchanging some parts of the picture._

_"Lovino, do you think you'll be an artist one day?" he asked quietly._

_Lovino craned his neck upwards to look him in the eye. "An artist? I…I don't know."_

_"But you like it, right? Doing art and stuff?"_

_"I mean, I do. But I'm not sure I can make it as an actual artist, Antonio," Lovino stated calmly._

_Antonio frowned as he gave his words thought. "You're right, it does take a lot of work. But I've seen you improve a whole lot since, well—" he gestured to the walls, "—that. I think you'd be really great if you'd be willing to put the effort in."_

_Lovino's eyes shone, and Antonio realized he was nearly crying again. "You think so?" he asked, hopeful._

_"Yeah, I do. Because I read somewhere that an artist is someone who changes people's lives. You've definitely got that ability, and that's what truly makes you an artist." Antonio laughed. "But also because you're really stubborn, and nobody can stop you when you're being stubborn."_

_That earned him a punch to the arm._

_"Okay, okay, sorry!"_

_Lovino rested his head back on Antonio's shoulder. "You better be," he mumbled._

_"I am sorry, Lovi. I mean, Lovino," he corrected himself._

_The quiet laughter from Lovino made him smile. "Lovi is fine, okay?"_

_"Mh-hm."_

_Both boys shared a yawn, Antonio beginning to let the rhythmic raining drag out his weariness._

_He fell asleep there, his best friend breathing softly against him, Antonio feeling glad he decided to venture out here. He could deal with his parents in the morning._

* * *

_Antonio adjusted his tie in the mirror. Tonight, he was taking his girlfriend out to dinner for their one year anniversary, and he was adjusting every little part of his suit. After all, he needed to look presentable._

_Feliciano's lithe frame popped into his view in the mirror. "You look great, Tonio, don't worry!" he chimed in. "Mia is going to love it, I promise."_

_"You think so?" Antonio asked. He wasn't exactly worried about her finding him attractive, he just didn't want to look bad._

_Feliciano nodded. "Definitely. Who wouldn't?"_

_They both laughed and sat on his bed as they waited. Feliciano's pen pal from Germany was finally visiting, and Antonio had invited them to join him and Mia at the restaurant as a welcome. Feliciano certainly looked excited to see him again; the boy was grinning from ear to ear and bouncing his leg on the bed._

_"What time is he getting here?" Antonio asked._

_Feliciano glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes."_

_A knock on the door cut off Antonio's reply. His brother opened the door and leaned against the doorframe and regarded them lazily. "You two all set?" he asked._

_"Almost," Antonio said. "Ludwig is getting here."_

_His brother, Henrique, gave a quick thumbs up. "I'm driving you guys, so let me know when you're ready."_

_Antonio returned his thumbs up. "I will."_

_When he left, Feliciano looked over to Antonio with a somewhat worried look in his eyes. "Can I ask you something?" he questioned, unusually quiet for him._

_"Of course. What is it?" Antonio offered him a soft smile to reassure him._

_Feliciano took a deep breath, closing his eyes and speaking quickly. "Do you think Luddy would consider this a date?" He opened one eye when he finished, looking a bit scared as he waited for a response._

_Antonio paused. He hadn't been expecting that, but he wanted to make sure he didn't seem to surprised. "Well, do you want it to be?" he finally replied._

_"I-I guess I do." Feliciano pouted. "You've met him, right? Do you think he likes...you know...."_

_"Guys?" he ventured. Feliciano nodded solemnly. "Well, from what I've known of him, you two get along really well, yeah?"_

_"Mh-hm."_

_Antonio gave him a cheerful smile, and he smiled back. "Then there's nothing to worry about. If he's gay, I'd say there's a good chance he likes you. But if he's not, and he's really your friend, he'll respect you and you two will still write to each other and visit all the time."_

_The bed creaked as Feliciano threw his arms around Antonio, burying his face into his shoulder. "Thank you," he mumbled._

_"No problem, Feli." He rubbed his back in comfort. "If you don't mind me asking, why did you ask me?"_

_Feliciano pulled away from him, laughing. "Because Lovino hates Ludwig, and you're like my second older brother."_

_He had a point there. Lovino wasn't a huge fan of his brother's German friend, and Antonio practically lived with them._

_"Does your brother know at all?" Antonio asked._

_"I guess he might have a clue. But he hasn't been out of his room for a few days, so you're the first one I told," Feliciano said shyly, his face turning a bit pink. Antonio felt somewhat honored that he trusted him enough for that._

_Suddenly, he grew serious. "Feliciano, you can't let my parents know, okay? They're not the most understanding people out there."_

_A public display of homophobia from his parents the previous year had left a jarring realization in Antonio's heart that they had a particular nasty side to them. He shuddered at the thought. No friend of his would have to deal with that while he was around. Especially not little Feliciano._

_"Got it," Feliciano said, bringing Antonio back to the present._

_Just then, the doorbell downstairs rang out through the house, and Feliciano nearly fell off the bed trying to get up. "He's early!" he yelled._

_Antonio laughed and helped to steady him. "You can walk, he's not going anywhere."_

_With an apologetic yet excited grin, Feliciano made his way downstairs where Antonio heard him greet Ludwig cheerfully._

_One last adjustment to his suit jacket and Antonio followed, turning off the lights on his way out._

_Ludwig was dressed nicely, and his perfectly slicked back hair made him look almost like an adult. Even though Feliciano was a year older, the blond boy stood a few inches over him. Antonio hadn't seen him since the last time he'd visited with Gilbert, which had only been a few short months ago. How had he grown so fast?_

_He shook Antonio's hand as he said hello, in English, and Antonio noticed that his smile looked like more of a formality than of genuine happiness._

_"How's your brother doing?" Antonio asked in attempt to make conversation._

_"Gilbert is doing well. Wild, as always," he replied._

_Antonio laughed. "I don't doubt it."_

_"Is that the little German boy?" he heard someone call out from the living room. Antonio's mother shuffled in with slipper-clad feet and a cup of coffee. She looked tired, and Antonio inwardly sighed. He hoped she wouldn't say anything rude._

_"_ Guten Abend _," Ludwig said with a nod in her direction._

_"Such great manners," she commented wistfully. "I wish you were my son."_

_From what Antonio could tell, Ludwig's face pulled a little tighter. He was definitely uncomfortable, and Antonio couldn't blame him._

_"Well, what are you boys doing just standing around here?" she asked, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. "You have a dinner to be at. Feliciano, are you and Ludwig meeting your dates at the restaurant?"_

_Feliciano stuttered for a few seconds, unable to find his words. "Y-Yes, ma'am!" he finally blurted. Ludwig raised an eyebrow at him, and Antonio inwardly sighed._

_Trying to save him from further embarrassment, Antonio called for his brother, who was there in a matter of seconds, twirling his keys around his finger. "Ready?" he asked._

_"You guys go on and get in the car, I'll be right there," Antonio replied._

_His mother watched him as he went to the kitchen to take the bouquet of lotus flowers out of the vase. He tried slipping past her with only a goodbye, but she gently took ahold of his arm to stop him. "Be good to her, okay?" she asked quietly. "And keep in mind that we're still moving soon." She'd been saying that ever since he could remember._

_"I will, mamá." He smiled, and she hugged him briefly before shooing him out the house._

_With the bouquet in hand, he sat in the passenger's seat of the waiting car. Henrique drove off and headed in the direction of Mia's house to pick her up._

_Ludwig and Feliciano were chatting quietly in the back, Ludwig finally loosening up and looking more relaxed around his friend. Antonio smiled to himself; he hoped things would work out with them._

_That was one brother that was happy. But what about Lovino? It hadn't gone unnoticed to Antonio the Italian's souring mood as of late. He wouldn't smile as much when Antonio made a joke, and there were times he wouldn't even let people talk to him. And now he was locking himself in his room. There was something going on with him, and Antonio guessed it was partly related to his self-esteem._

_Henrique prodded him sharply in the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Are you going to get your girlfriend or not?" he asked._

_"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Antonio hurried out the car, almost leaving the bouquet in his seat in the process. Only after taking a deep breath at the front door, he knocked and stepped back._

_A heavyset man with a full mustache opened the door. Assuming it was Mia's father, Antonio offered a polite smile. "Hello, I'm here to pick up Mia. I'm Antonio," he said._

_The man gave a small nod and receded back into the house. He shouted for her, and Antonio heard her respond from far away._

_"She's coming downstairs," her father grumbled._

_True to his statement, Mia was in the doorway in seconds. Her dark hair was spiraled elegantly over her right shoulder, held up by a engraved silver clasp. She was in a dark blue dress matched with black heels, and she was smiling warmly with a light pink dusting her cheeks. She looked stunning, but Antonio found he was missing something._

_It took a few moments for Antonio to process that he was staring. "O-Oh, right!" He held out the flowers for her to take, and her entire face lit up._

_"Thank you, they're beautiful," she breathed out._

_"You told me the pink ones were your favorite, so I thought you'd like them," Antonio said._

_Mia plucked one from the bunch and handed the rest to her father to put in a vase. "I really appreciate them, Tonio. So, should we go now?"_

_Antonio nodded and took her hand to lead her to the car. "You can sit in the front, because there's not enough room in the back for all of us," he instructed, opening the car door for her._

_"Oh, thank you." Mia sat down, looking over her shoulder at the boys in the back, somewhat bothered. She hadn't been a huge fan of the idea of bringing the two along._

_Feliciano seemed unaware of her discomfort, however, as he smiled and waved to her. "You look very pretty!" he chimed._

_"Thank you, Feli," she replied politely. "And you all look very handsome tonight."_

_Antonio smiled as he sat on the left of Feliciano and Ludwig. "All ready to go." Henrique nodded and started the car back up._

_The ride was filled with idle chatter, mostly contributed by Feliciano. Antonio noticed with a suppressed chuckle that he and Ludwig would periodically catch each other's glances before quickly looking away._

_The bubbly Italian was telling Ludwig about his earlier struggle of putting on his tie when they arrived at the restaurant. He squealed when he saw the entrance and hurried Ludwig out the car, forgetting his conversation._

_Antonio promised his brother he'd call when they finished and stepped around the car to open Mia's door. He took her hand and led her to the front, sporting a charming smile for her, which she returned._

_He'd saved up enough to take her to a nice dinner for their anniversary, and to his relief she seemed to like it. The two younger boys seemed pleased with it, as well._

_She still smiled as they were escorted by a waiter to their own table, situating herself comfortably in her chair._

_"Order anything you want," Antonio instructed, picking up his own menu to scan over._

_They sat in a comfortable silence for the few minutes they were deciding on food. Once they ordered, however, someone had to break the silence._

_"You do look very beautiful today," Antonio commented._

_"Thanks, it's a new dress," she replied. "I was hoping you'd like it."_

_Antonio inwardly sighed with relief. It was usually a hassle for him to start conversations like this, but he knew she could talk forever if he let her. She did just that, going on about how she picked it out and her father's unwillingness to let her go out._

_With an occasional nod to keep her going, Antonio's mind wandered away from their table and back home. Something was tugging at him, trying to bring him back. Was Lovino really okay? He didn't know, and it was beginning to drive him crazy. They used to tell each other everything before anyone else. The thought of them drifting apart terrified Antonio._

_"...and that's when we buried the body."_

_"_ What _?" Antonio started._

_Mia sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I know you're not paying attention," she said, having his full attention now._

_"I was!" Antonio tried, laughing nervously yet knowing full well it was pointless to try and mask it._

_Her face set in a frown. "You don't want to be here, do you?"_

_"Why do you think that?" He had never really been the best liar._

_"Really, Tonio?" she asked, pouting. "You're staring right past me, and there's nothing there—I checked three times. And you have this look on your face like you just lost your favorite pet." Her expression softened. "Are you sick? Because I don't mind if we reschedule."_

_"No, I'm not sick." He sighed._

_"Mia," he started hesitantly. "I like you, you know that." She nodded, and he continued. "But I don't...I-I don't think I can do this anymore."_

_Mia simply stared. "You're breaking up with me?" Antonio nodded feebly. "On our anniversary?"_

_While he admitted it wasn't the best time to end something, he didn't want to move on trying to make her believe he still wanted to be together._

_"Yes, I am."_

_He didn't know what to say in the awkward silence that ensued. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything._

_Mia stood up abruptly and dropped the flower in his hands. "Well, this has been an experience. If you'll excuse me, I need to call my dad to pick me up," she said with a straight face, and hurried off to the bathroom._

_It was then Antonio realized what an asshole move that had been. He groaned and slumped in his chair, only solaced by the fact that he wouldn't have to break up with her later._

_Tucking the flower into his jacket pocket with little more than a submissive sigh, Antonio made his way to Feliciano and Ludwig's table. "Mind if I join you two?"_

_They didn't ask him what happened throughout dinner, and neither did Henrique when he noticed the absence of a certain girl. Before they dropped off the boys at Feliciano's house, Antonio asked if he could go there, too. Feliciano offered an understanding smile and Henrique promised to not tell their mother, much to his relief._

_When the car stopped, Antonio practically threw the car door open and hurried inside while Feliciano led Ludwig to the veranda out back. The brothers' grandpa regarded him warmly, and Antonio was glad to see him._

_"Antonio, my boy, it's been over a week. I think that's a new record." The old man laughed, still somehow managing to appear younger even after taking on the task of raising both grandsons for the past year._

_Returning a more tired rendition of his smile, Antonio walked up and hugged him. "I'm sorry, just been busy."_

_They both knew that was a lie, but neither commented on it. The man the boys all affectionately referred to as Grandpa Rome let his smile falter. "He's upstairs," was all he said._

_Antonio silently thanked him as he quietly made his way up the wooden steps. He could see the slats of light protruding from under his door, but no sound carried out with it._

_He knocked gently on the door. "Lovino? It's me."_

_The door opened a crack and Lovino's hazel eyes peered at him. "What do you want?" he asked disinterestedly._

_"Can I come in?" Antonio asked, his chest filled with hope._

_Lovino hesitated. "No, you can't."_

_His heart fell. He still wasn't opening up. "Lovi, please? You're really starting to worry everyone, especially me," he begged. "Just let me in, or come out here, or something!"_

_"But I'm fine in here!" he argued._

_"Doing_ what _?" Antonio countered._

_Lovino was frozen for several moments. He looked away, and his cheeks tinged red. He muttered something Antonio couldn't quite hear._

_"What?"_

_"I said I was painting, jackass."_

_Antonio looked past his head through the open door, trying to see. There were several canvases in his view, but Lovino closed the door before he could get a good view of anything._

_"Lovino," he whined. "Please, let me see. You know I love your art!"_

_The door opened again, and Lovino peered around both directions before opening it fully. "Fine," he grumbled._

_Overjoyed at their progress, Antonio stepped inside, Lovino closing the door behind him._

_Antonio was stunned by all the works surrounding him. Canvas and paper alike were coated with sunrises, color studies, and he even recognized one as his brother's dog, Biscotto. One caught his eye, and he moved towards it before Lovino could call for him to stop._

_"Is this…me?"_

_Lovino turned bright red, desperately trying to turn around the canvas on its easel. "S-So what if it is? I'm just practicing."_

_He had been taking art lessons recently after Antonio relentlessly encouraged him to do so. Those lessons definitely weren't going to waste._

_Antonio picked one up and examined it. "These are gorgeous, Lovi. You're getting really good!"_

_"Don't try to flatter me, bastard," he muttered. He tried too late to hide his faint smile, and Antonio sighed with a smile._

_Lovino looked him up and down. "What's with you? Date went too well with Mia?"_

_"Oh, no. I broke up with her," he replied, maybe a little too uncalloused. Lovino stared at him, practically bug-eyed._

_"You broke up with the prettiest, most popular girl in school. On your anniversary?!" he shouted. Antonio winced and put down the painting._

_"Yeah…."_

_Lovino dropped onto his bead, shaking his head. "Idiot."_

_Pouting, Antonio sat beside him. "What, I just don't really like her romantically anymore."_

_"Do you like someone else?" he asked._

_Lovino's eyes stared right into his, brimming with a new curiosity Antonio hadn't seen in a while. A stark contrast to Antonio's new suit, he was in a plain gray T-shirt that had paint smears overtaking the main color, and he looked a little tired. Something still seemed to be bothering him, but he was strong enough to pull through it. Because Antonio was his best friend, and he knew all there was to know about him. He'd seen him get through bullying kids, the deaths of both his parents, and more recently he was beginning to conquer his own self-doubts. And he was wonderful._

Crap.

_"No," Antonio lied. And he was just beginning to realize that lie._

_"Well, good," Lovino scoffed. "Because I don't need my best friend running off to realize he can leave me here whenever he wants."_

_"You locked me out for a week," Antonio pointed out. "But don't worry, I can't do better than you." With an overdramatic flourish, he produced the lotus flower from his pocket. It was somewhat flattened, but it looked decent enough._

_His eyes flittered from the flower to Antonio's face. "Let me guess. You gave it to her, she got upset and threw it at your face when you dumped her."_

_"She just handed it back to me!"_

_Lovino laughed, and Antonio's chest soared. He'd always loved making him laugh. "Dumbass," the Italian mumbled and took the flower gingerly in his hands._

_"Anytime," Antonio responded with a grand smile._

_Placing the flower on his bedside table, Lovino regained a more serious expression as he regarded Antonio. "Hey, Toni? Remember two years ago in the treehouse, you told me that an artist was someone who changed people's lives?"_

_He didn't, not vividly, but he nodded nonetheless. "Yeah."_

_Lovino looked away, staring at the far wall. "Well, you're a pretty great artist."_

_Antonio took a shaky breath, suddenly finding himself needed to repress his tears._

_"Don't say anything if you can't," Lovino continued. "You just…really help me. All the time. Thank you."_

_That was the nicest thing any person had said to him._

* * *

_"Alright, Gilbert. Isn't your flute cleaned enough?"_

_"What? You think I'm gonna risk messing up the pads on this thing by playing it outside? No way, I'm cleaning it right before and right after."_

_Francis held his violin close to him. "Gil, you're giving our poor lover-boy here a heart attack," he said. "It'll be fine, don't worry. Let's just practice a little more to get your mind off of it."_

_Mumbling something about how they'd practiced enough, Gilbert gave in and tuned the instrument once more._

_Antonio looked over the surface of the pond before them. His friends had helped him to set up a table in the gazebo where Antonio was going to take Lovino and finally ask him out. It had taken him nearly two years to decide if he should try, and part of that time was spent thinking up ways to actually go through with it._

_Waving goodbye to his temporary musicians, Antonio hopped into his car and headed back home. On the way, he had to consciously remind himself to breathe; he was all around a nervous wreck. He wasn't even sure if Lovino liked men, but he was practically betting their entire friendship on it. He had to take his advice to Feliciano and flip it back to himself, and repeat it to himself. If he doesn't, then he'll understand, and you can still be friends. It had worked out well enough for him and Ludwig._

_He parked the car in front of Lovino's house, but made no move to get out. He knew he'd be waiting inside for him, but he wanted to double check things first._

_Lovino had kept all of his Michael Bublé CDs in Antonio's car since he got it. Picking Lovino's favorite album, he popped it into the CD player and went to go get him. He found him in the living room, petting Biscotto as she sprawled herself over his lap. "There you are," Lovino said. "Thought you were messing with me. Now will you tell me where we're going?"_

_"Aw, but that takes away the fun!" Antonio replied, hoping he was concealing his nerves well enough._

_Biscotto yawned and hopped off the couch as Lovino stood up. Antonio had to refrain from taking his hand and kissing him right then and there. He had on a simple black long-sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his arms were crossed._

_"Let's go," he said, maintaining his collective air about him while still anticipating the surprise he was promised._

_He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat of the car as Antonio set the car into motion. He smiled, listening to Lovino hum the words to Kissing a Fool. It was one of his favorite songs, and he almost always played it when they were going somewhere._

_"Hey, Lovi."_

_"Hm?"_

_"Francis and Gilbert are there, too. Is that okay?" Antonio asked._

_Lovino opened his eyes and looked at him. "Yeah, why?"_

_He smiled. "Just asking."_

_His nerves were quickly giving way to excitement. He'd been waiting for this for a while, and here he was. His best friend was right beside him, playing his favorite song. The weather was perfect, and he was genuinely happy._

_"Antonio."_

_"Yeah?" he asked, dreamy-eyed._

_"Pay atten—look out!"_

* * *

_It was all black. And then there were too many colors._

_Sirens flashed through his eyelids, making his head swim. What was he doing? Where was he? What happened to--_

Lovino.

_Antonio tried sitting up and almost screamed. He felt like something was weighing his chest down from the inside, and movement only helped to aggravate the pain further. He turned his head frantically, unable to fully focus. He could feel he was moving somehow, though it wasn't his autonomous decision to do so. He was on a stretcher._

_He craned his neck to spot his car, and stared in horror at the state of it. It was something reminiscent of a crushed soda can. His hearing began to ebb back into his head, and he heard shouting coming from the other side of the car, where the metal looked to be the most crunched up. He reached out an arm towards it and bit back a cry; it was definitely broken._

_He didn't want to look. Yet he couldn't avert his blurred gaze as they pried the car door off and dragged something out of it. No, not something, someone. He was barely recognizable, twisted in unnatural ways and soaked in someone's blood. Antonio's breathing quickened as they brought him over to the ambulance, placing him on a similar stretcher and shouting at each other to hurry. His head lulled to the side, and Antonio's breath hitched in his throat, shooting another bought of pain through his body, but he hardly noticed. There was a sizable bump on his head, and a long scratch right under his hairline, but Antonio didn't dare evaluate the rest of him. If someone were to take a doll and beat it senseless, that's what Lovino Vargas would currently look like._

_His struggles to get to him were futile, as the medics held him down, or his own pain prohibited him from going any further. So he went with the one thing he knew he could do._

_He started screaming._

* * *

_Second day of his new job, and he was already late._

_Antonio practically slammed his car door as he rushed inside the building. Even after one day, he already had a reputation as the nice professor who everyone liked. Even that man who interrupted his class to take pictures. And now he was running late._

_Running indoors wasn't really advised, but he found this an acceptable case to ignore that. Knowing his students from only yesterday had still led him to believe they'd somehow start a lecture without him, and he almost considered turning back and heading home again. He laughed to himself._

_Just as he was turning the corner, someone had the same idea. They hit each other full force, and Antonio winced as he felt his ass hit the ground. He groaned and rubbed his head momentarily._

_"What the fuck are you doing running around corners for?" the man asked, obviously pissed. "You knocked us both over!"_

_Antonio looked up while apologizing but froze on the spot in the middle of an explanation. The other man was scowling, and his hazel eyes were boring into his skull like lazers. He had one large curl protruding from his head, and a recognizable Italian accent. Antonio thought he must have hit his head harder than he initiatively perceived, because there was no way he was who Antonio thought he looked like. No, Antonio was in Spain, and his old friend was dead._

_Urgency forgotten, he apologized and helped him up. He introduced himself normally and held his breath when the other introduced himself as Lovino Vargas._

_This wasn't possible. He wasn’t alive. He'd killed Lovino Vargas in an accident eight years ago._

_So why the hell was he standing right in front of him, advising him not to run in the hallways?_

 

* * *

 

Antonio woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Just this week, he'd relived those moments twice. It was eating him up from the inside, and he didn't know how much more he could take before he'd break.

 

He knew Lovino still didn't remember him. Feliciano was still pushing for him to try and explain it to him. Maybe he was right. Hugging the blanket to his head, he cried into the soft fabric. He needed to tell him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...a lot of you saw this coming. I stayed up until ungodly hours finishing this, so any reviews or comments are definitely appreciated!


	12. Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry look I'm not dead! And we're nearing the end!

 

 

 

Several months of visits had made Antonio more comfortable inviting himself over, claiming that either he wanted to continue working with the contest paintings or simply hang around and have coffee with Lovino. With Feliciano and Fiorella staying over and an agreement to visit often in their final days, he'd even started to appear once every three or so days.

 

But he hadn't shown up in over a week.

 

The rational part of Lovino's chaos-wracked brain tried soothing down his worries, reasoning that Antonio was only busy. He had a job, after all, and he couldn't spend every second trying to get this crap done for the contest, or spending nonsensical time with the grumpy Italian. But Lovino could still feel that something was amiss. The few phone calls he'd tried to make were met not with the cheerful and pleasant voice he had grown accustom to hearing, but instead the cold, robotic tone of his voicemail.

 

Moping about his sudden absence wouldn't do any good, and having his brother know he was beginning to feel upset definitely wouldn't help his case.

 

Since that day—he'd told Feliciano about their kiss, Antonio's shift in mood and sudden withdrawal—Feliciano had tried cheering him up with kind words and heaps of food. Lovino appreciated the gesture, but was growing weary of his brother's doting. He and Fiorella were going back home in a few days, however, so he didn't complain. He'd just let Feliciano wear himself out until he was gone.

 

Still on edge, he was tapping his foot restlessly, sitting on Antonio's little stool at his easel. Almost every time Lovino became upset, he'd end up in the back room, the little space where he could hide and just paint. This time was no different, and he was brainstorming for his last piece to busy himself. The contest would be over in only two more weeks, and their final pieces were to be presented in front of everyone with a brief artist statement. Lovino wasn't particularly looking forward to it—he hated public speeches—but he didn't have much of a choice.

 

It was a closing piece, meant to encompass all that the artist and model had learned together, and essentially how they'd grown. But Lovino couldn't quite form a way to condense their journey into a coherent image.

 

How had they grown? Every time Lovino attempted to grasp something, he could only think of the ways they'd nearly fought or did something that made the other uncomfortable. That wasn't all they'd done by any stretch of the imagination, but it was overwhelming his brain.

 

_I shouldn't have kissed him._

 

Those thoughts crossed his mind for the millionth time that day. Maybe if he hadn't done it, Antonio would come back. If he'd waited until the contest was over-

 

_No_ , he thought, letting a resigned sigh escape him, _I had to_.

 

He'd learned long ago that holding in feelings would only deepen a wound.

 

Maybe, he hoped, working on something else would give his mind a rest from all of the hell cluttering it. Designs with words sounded fun. Words he could spit out and do something with, some research to strengthen it, and a small piece to complete. Hell, if Paula Scher could design half of New York or make a map out of road and city names, Lovino Vargas could try to express his emotions as a sign or something equally inconsequential.

 

Lovino let out a dismal, muffled cry when he reached for his paint tubes. The small container for his cadmium red was completely empty. He didn't want to put off buying more until he severely needed it, but he couldn't do crap without it in order to finish the final piece, and even if he could manage having the thumbnails a different color, he still needed the paint.

 

Grumbling about having to drive all the way to the store, he shrugged on a jacket and snatched his keys from the side table by the door.

 

"Feli, I'm heading out for a bit!" he called.

 

Just as he was about to shut the door, a foot shot out and stopped it. Fiorella pried it back open and stared up at him with all the determination a six-year-old could present. "I'm going, too," she announced.

 

Lovino sighed. His brother wasn't right there to argue her side, so he could easily usher her back inside. But she puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arm in a silent defiance, and he could tell she had been cooped up in the house too long—her restlessness was mirroring how Lovino felt. After all, her only outings had been to the grocery store and a few adventures in the yard.

 

He probably owed it to her, so he relented.

 

"Alright, come on."

 

Fiorella's face lit up as she skipped to his car. "Can I change your ringtone, now?" she called over her shoulder.

 

"You're supposed to do that when you leave," he pointed out.

 

It was their little tradition. After every visit, Lovino allowed his excited niece to change his ringtone to whatever she wanted, and made him promise three times over not to change it unless she granted him permission. She was the reason he had to hear a Britney Spears song every time someone called him for the past half a year.

 

"But we leave in three days," she whined. "That's close enough!"

 

Lovino unlocked the car and watched as she hopped in on the passenger's side. "No buts, we made a deal," he said. His lips quirked into a smile when she pouted and nodded in a silent agreement.

 

The drive was fun and relaxing, and Lovino was grateful for the uplifting atmosphere Fiorella brought around. It had made his day their last visit when he discovered she enjoyed listening to Michael Bublè despite not really knowing what the words were. Now she was attempting to sing along to I Believe in You, and she was loving it.

 

While she was occupied, Lovino mentally counted how much money he had. An estimated _not enough to spend money on god damn paint_ was what he ultimately realized. So, he decided to rummage around his and Guido's storage room, just in case. Fiorella would for sure be excited to see him.

 

The only problem with that was how annoyingly close he'd be to Antonio, and he wasn't supposed to interrupt him. Maybe he'd screw the rules and talk to him anyway, ask him in front of everyone why he wouldn't answer his damn phone.

 

"Are we going meet Tonio?" Of course she'd ask that. _Child mind reader_.

 

"I don't think so, Fio," he replied.

 

"But we should! I can't leave if he doesn't tell me goodbye," she reasoned.

 

Lovino nodded. "I'm sure he'll try to tell you goodbye."

 

She nodded slowly. "Okay. And if he doesn't, I can just tell him next time I visit you, right?"

 

"Well…yes, you can," he said. He didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't really know.

 

Once Lovino pulled up to the side of the school, it took him a while to actually get out the car. He only wished he could be as jolly as Fiorella, without a care in the world. Of course, he wouldn't really want that to happen; he'd told himself in the past that he shouldn't wish to relive his childhood.

 

He slowly got out of the car and walked alongside Fiorella to the door. Currently his only hope was that he would be able to quickly get in, get what he needed, say as little as possible and get the hell out. It was a nice thought, even if it wasn't plausible.

 

The storage room was unlocked when he got there. A familiar figure sat leaning against the small desk in the corner. Fiorella ran over to Guido the moment she saw him, squealing in delight at seeing her friend waiting for her. They'd only met once or twice, but she had always been very friendly to everyone she met. The two definitely made a great pair when it came to talking the other's ear off.

 

"Hey there, Fio!" Guido greeted with a laugh as she ran to hug him.

 

"Guido, we came here to find paint!" she said.

 

The bright man smiled with a knowing look. "I'm sure we've got plenty of that here, so knock yourself out."

 

"Hey, Guido," Lovino said as she began rummaging through drawers.

 

"Lovino, it's been a while!" Guido gave him a quick hug and retreated to the desk where Fiorella was. "Anything specific you need?"

 

He shrugged. "Whatever I can have."

 

Guido looked over his shoulder at him. "Go ahead, I won't tell." He smiled mischievously and returned to the desk. That was how Lovino could tell that some of the things in here didn't belong to him.

 

They began going through all corners of the small room, showing Lovino whatever they found so he could approve it or put it back. After some time, Fiorella stopped. She stared at the ground for a few long moments before tugging on Lovino's sleeve.

 

"I have to pee," she stated with a frown.

 

Lovino sighed. "Alright, I'll take you. Guido, no taking shit from my bag again."

 

"Hey, kid present!" he yelled.

 

"It's not like she hasn't heard that before, and Feliciano won't know any better. Keep it shut." He gave him a hard stare for a moment and led Fiorella out into the hall, leaving his friend shaking his head.

 

A few girls stood several yards away from the door, closer to the side of Antonio's room. He knew there was a restroom a short ways down the hall that way, but he also knew there was one farther away in the complete opposite direction. He was in the middle of deciding which one to go to when a name caught his attention.

 

"This Lovino guy really has a crazy story."

 

Because it was _his_ name.

 

The girls continued rambling as they walked closer to him, an open letter in their hands. "Yeah, it says the guy's name twice. One I think is a nickname," one pointed out.

 

"Do you think it's some kinda love letter?"

 

"That's one depressing love letter, then."

 

Love letter? What the hell was his name doing in that?

 

Fiorella grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to her. "Why did we stop?" she asked.

 

At first, he couldn't respond. The two girls were passing him up, and he decided on the spot that he wanted to know what was going on. "Sorry, didn't mean to stop. Bathroom is this way." They resumed walking, in the direction of the farther bathroom and trailing the girls at a short distance.

 

Every once in a while he'd hear snippets of their conversation, and he really didn't know how to react.

 

"I don't know, it's kinda tragically romantic."

 

"We should make a movie out of this!"

 

Finally they reached the girl's restroom. Lovino looked around frantically for several long moments. They were getting away, and he was damn well sure that letter didn't belong to them. He looked helplessly at Fiorella for a second before bending down and calmly placing both hands on her shoulders.

 

"Fio, can you be a big girl and go in there by yourself?" he asked slowly and cautiously. Hopefully his brother wouldn't kill him for this. More hopefully he wouldn't even find out.

 

The little girl stared at him wide-eyed and nodded quickly. "I can!"

 

Lovino sighed, glancing over his shoulder down the hallway. "Go right back to Guido when you're finished, okay? No detours."

 

She nodded once more. "Got it, back to Guido!"

 

With an affirming hug, he shoed her into the restroom and hurried off to catch up with the girls.

 

"Èlia agrees that he looks super depressed lately. She thinks it's because how he said-" She was cut off by Lovino tapping her shoulder.

 

"Excuse me," he said slowly, "but what are you reading?"

 

The girl in question stole a quick glance to her two friends and turned around, holding the open letter behind her back. She looked extremely suspicious in Lovino's opinion.

 

"It's nothing," she said, her friends avoiding eye contact with him in favor of twirling their hair and staring down the hallway.

 

Lovino raised an eyebrow, not buying it at all. "Are you sure?"

 

The girl scoffed. "It's not your business, okay?" She was chewing gum absently and hiding her free hand in the pocket of her oversized jacket.

 

Who the hell was this person? She seemed uninterested in being even remotely a part of this conversation, and where Lovino had felt fear and anticipation, he now only felt pissed off at her. So he crossed his arms and stared her down with a glare that could stop time. "I think it's safe to say it's not your business either." All the caution had left his voice. That seemed to have gotten their attention.

 

The girl caved in, but she still seemed on edge. "Fine, we found it on the ground. But why do you want to know?" she asked.

 

Lovino faltered. Could he tell her that he was the tragic guy mentioned in the letter? It didn't seem necessary to reveal, so he lied. "You said the name Lovino in there, yes?"

 

"That's who it's addressed to," she responded.

 

"Well, I know him," he began. "And I'm sure he'd very much appreciate it if he got this, if it's from who I think it's from." He paused and took a deep breath. "Too much has been going on in his life lately, and he needs some answers. And I don't think he'd appreciate other people reading it." He watched her face turn from annoyed to sympathetic, then guilty.

 

A few heartbeats passed before she handed it over. One of the others spoke up behind her. "Sorry, sir, but I hate to tell you that we...weren't the ones who found that."

 

What was that supposed to mean?

 

"Someone found it way earlier this morning," the third girl piped in. "That guy's entire class has read it at this point."

 

" _What?_ "

 

Lovino scrambled to open the letter as he did his best to stay standing. Of course he could tell this letter was Antonio's doing, but his brain was now connecting the paper with his absence. What had happened to him? The girls began shuffling away, taking advantage of his distraction, but he didn't care anymore. As he'd overheard, his own name was scrawled across the top left in Antonio's slightly messy but legible handwriting. However, he couldn't drag his eyes further down than the first line.

 

_Dear Lovino, my best friend._

 

His mind was swimming. For some reason he'd started walking. Did Antonio really think that of him?

 

Staring at the paper as a whole, all he knew was this: he was scared. But he had no other choice. If this was meant for him, he needed to read it.

 

It started out with a simple apology. But what hitched his breath was a paragraph talking about a little boy…in a treehouse.

 

A voice tore his attention to a man standing several yards ahead of him. "Lovino?"

 

In his time at this college, he'd seen plenty of disheveled professors wandering the hallways. But Antonio looked downright awful. He had bags under his eyes and he looked like he hadn't passed a comb through his hair in days. Even his tie was askew. To top it off, his slight slouch and shocked expression gave the impression that he was some kind of zombie. It made Lovino feel a little bad for him.

 

Still a bit shaky, he folded the letter back up and stuck it in his pocket. He walked up to Antonio until they were only a few feet apart. "Antonio," he said.

 

The Spanish man stuttered for a few moments. "You had...did you read the-the...Lovino, I-"

 

"I didn't read it yet, okay?" Lovino interrupted. It was only a partial lie.

 

Antonio at once looked completely relieved and terrified. "Listen, you don't have to read it, it's nothing."

 

Lovino took a step back. "How did it manage to get where your students could all read it?"

 

Antonio's eyes landed on the paper sticking out from Lovino's pocket. He looked scared, and Lovino could tell he wasn't about to admit to anything.

 

"Come on, say something! Why the hell haven't you been answering my calls? If you need a break, that's fine, but you have to tell me. I'm...I'm worried about you, okay?" A rim of tears began forming under his eyes, and he tried blinking them away, but one or two escaped him. Antonio took a cautious step towards him, but stopped short.

 

The tension only grew thicker, and Lovino's despair grew with it.

 

"Lovino, I never, ever wanted to hurt you." Antonio's small voice cut through the silence. The sound still made Lovino's heart ache.

 

"I'm not hurt, really, I'm just...upset," Lovino responded with a small, sad smile. "I just thought you trusted me enough to tell me what's wrong with you."

 

Antonio shook his head slowly. "That's not what I meant."

 

Then it struck him, a sudden jolt of realization that sent him taking another step back. That couldn't be it. No way could that have been what Antonio was trying to tell him. This man standing in shame in front of him, a college professor who could make everyone smile, and a terrible model helping Lovino out for some stupid contest he was persuaded into. He couldn't have lied.

 

He spoke before he could stop himself. "Antonio...who was the little boy in the treehouse?"

 

The expression on his face was painful to see. A tear rolled down Antonio's cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

 

Lovino couldn't breathe, couldn't respond. His throat felt hot, and his eyes burned with unfallen tears. Antonio reached out for his arm, hurriedly saying something about an explanation, but Lovino stumbled backwards to stay out of his reach. He wanted to run. Why the hell had he wanted answers all this time?

 

"I thought you..." Lovino trailed off. He didn't really know what he was trying to say, and he didn't care anymore.

 

A moment later he ran right past Antonio, ignoring his calls for him to wait. He just needed to find Fiorella and get out of there, supplies be damned.

 

He slowed at the bathroom. He didn't know if she'd still be in there, but he checked all around just to be sure. "Fiorella!" he called, his voice cracking as he tried to remember what he'd told her to do. _Guido_ , he thought.

 

She was nowhere to be seen in the hallway from there to the room, so he reasoned that she had to be there by now. Lovino threw open the door to the small room, causing Guido to jump in surprise, nearly falling off his stool and fumbling with his camera. His heart sank when he found the Italian man to be the only person in the room.

 

"Where's Fiorella?" he whispered almost inaudibly.

 

"Huh? Speak up, I can't-"

 

"Where's my fucking niece, Guido?!" He was breathing heavily, and he was certain his face was flushed. He must have looked mad.

 

Guido had experienced Lovino's bad tempers before, so he had the good sense to cooperate without questions. "I haven't seen her," he said cautiously, suddenly in a rare serious state. "I'll help you look."

 

The two set out down the hall in seconds, calling for the little girl. Lovino was beginning to feel frantic. They checked the area between the room and the bathroom again, and Guido had even gone into the girls' room to make sure she wasn't hiding in there.

 

When about fifteen minutes had passed, Lovino was out of breath. His foot was aching from running, and it he was on the verge of breaking down. How far could she have gone?

 

Guido approached him slowly. "Hey, we'll find her soon enough. She couldn't have gone far. I'll start checking the rooms at the other end of the hall." He gave a weak thumbs-up and jogged in the opposite direction. Lovino honestly felt like he would throw up soon.

 

A few minutes of sitting down helped him to calm his nerves somewhat. He stood up with only a little difficulty and managed to search through several of the near-empty rooms. Unsurprisingly, he received many strange and disapproving looks when he told people he was searching for his missing niece.

 

Groaning, Lovino buried his face in his palms. He wasn't making any progress, and that sick feeling was returning. Until he heard his name being called again.

 

"Lovi!" He was certain he'd never been more relieved to hear Fiorella's voice in all his life. Lovino wasted no time in springing up to see her being set down on the ground before she sprinted towards him, crying loudly. Standing a short ways back was Antonio, who offered a short wave.

 

"I found her back past my room. She was crying. Said she wanted to tell me goodbye but got lost." His voice was a strange, hollow thing. Lovino couldn't tell what he was thinking.

 

Lovino stood up, holding his niece as she sniffed and grabbed on to his shirt. He had to wipe his own eyes before he responded, "Thanks."

 

Just then, Guido reappeared. As always, he didn't make a noise before he was right beside Lovino. "Oh, thank god, you found her." It took him a few moments to notice Antonio, and a few more to realize there was an uncomfortable air between the two. "Lovino, the, uh, your stuff is still back in the room. Let's go get it."

 

He nodded absently and turned to follow him back without another word to Antonio.

 

"You two okay?" Guido whispered once they were a good enough distance from him.

 

If he was being honest, he didn't know exactly how to respond. "It's a long story." Though he didn't even know all of _that_ story.

 

Guido seemed to take that as a good enough answer for the time being and turned his attention to Fiorella, who still had her head leaning against Lovino's shoulder. "Hey," he said, "you all good?" She nodded weakly. "Well, that's good. Great job on being brave out there." She giggled softly at his statement, sniffling and staying relatively quiet. Lovino mouthed a small 'thank you' to Guido, to which he replied with a smile.

 

The supplies Lovino had picked out were in a large brown leather bag. Guido helped him to hoist it onto his shoulder with the little girl still on his other side.

 

That was when Lovino finally noticed a small glint on Guido's finger. "Wait a minute," he said, slightly shocked. "When did _that_ happen?"

 

A bright grin spread onto Guido's face. "Oh, that? Just last week. Anna and I are getting married!" He looked so excited Lovino thought he might start squealing. Lovino was surprised to feel a genuine smile tug at his lips.

 

"Damn, that's great! But when were you planning on telling me this, stupid?" he asked.

 

"Come on, of course I was gonna tell you! I just didn't think it was a good idea to tell you when you looked like you were about to rip someone's head off," he reasoned.

 

"Alright, I'll give you that."

 

Lovino congratulated him again, let him say his final goodbye to Fiorella, and headed back to his car. The temporary veil of happiness of his friend's proposal began falling away, and the heaviness he felt in his chest dragged him down.

 

Fiorella had seemingly recovered from her earlier scare and was now sitting comfortably in her seat, probably waiting for Lovino to turn on the radio so she could sing along.

 

He took back what he'd always told himself; what he wouldn't give to be her age again right now.

 

As he drove home, he just felt drained. The grass was at a standstill, and it almost looked like it was beginning to die. Couldn't it just dance again?

 

When he parked his car in front of his home, he sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking over at Fiorella. She had fallen asleep, and a small line of drool ran down her chin. He smiled faintly at her being so calm. Now he only wondered how calm Feliciano would be in a few minutes.

 

Once again carrying his niece and art bag, he walked into the living room as quietly as he could and laid her down on the couch. After depositing the bag in the back, he trudged back to see his brother combing his fingers through his daughter's hair. He looked up at Lovino with his usual smile. "Did you two have fun?"

 

Lovino sighed through his teeth. "Depends on what you mean by 'fun'."

 

Feliciano's face fell. "Oh god, what did you do?"

 

"Everything is fine, don't worry," he assured. "I just lost sight of her for a few minutes."

 

At that Feliciano shot up, his hands on Lovino's shoulders in a second. "You _what_?"

 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" He held up his hands in defense. "Antonio had her, she's okay." It felt like a punch to the gut to say his name. Watching his brother panic over the information, Lovino had a painful new understanding of the whole situation.

 

"Feli, look at me," he said, snapping him out of his rant, though he still had an angry frown on his face. "I'm sorry to change the subject, but...you knew about him, right?"

 

Of course he knew his brother must have known about it. After all, he wasn't the one with memory loss. "Know about who?" Feliciano's eyes were wide, and he kept glancing around and avoiding eye contact. A toddler could tell he was lying.

 

"Don't play dumb with me, I'm tired of that shit. You knew about Antonio this whole damn time, and you didn't tell me. God, you let me fall in love with this...this liar, and you didn't say a thing!" He knew better than to get angry at Feliciano, but this time he couldn't hold it back.

 

Feliciano was the third person that day Lovino had seen with that same look of guilt, like he had no words. Lovino was ready to storm away and lock himself in his room by himself when Feliciano spoke up.

 

"I wanted you to be happy, Lovino," he said softly. "You two always understood each other. He needed to tell you himself, in his own way. That's not my place."

 

"But is that really something you have to keep hidden for months? Not a 'Hey, this is your childhood best friend. Sorry I ran away the moment you had something bad happen to you and never said anything about it!'" Lovino wiped at his eyes furiously. He didn't want to cry over him. Not now.

 

Feliciano frowned. "Have you even tried looking at it from his side?" he asked. "He thought he lost you completely, and now that he's trying to do something about that, you're just shoving him away again! What about how he feels in this? Did you even _try_ to talk it out before you ran off and lost my little girl, Lovino?!"

 

"Are you kidding me? Do you wanna know how I actually found out what was going on?" He ripped the now-crumpled letter from his pocket. "I found _this_ being passed around like it was some show-and-tell prize!"

 

"Well, did you _read_ it?" he asked in an unusually cold tone.

 

Lovino froze momentarily. "Some of it," he muttered.

 

His brother nodded. "That's your problem. You never want to read all of anything before you make a decision about something important."

 

The shuffling of a blanket and a small groan caught their attention. Fiorella was awake.

 

Feliciano turned back to him, eyes narrowed in a warning to be quiet. "I'm going to go finish packing. You do the same; you're coming back with me for a little while, okay?"

 

Admittedly, Lovino was slightly stunned. He truly believed he'd never seen his brother this serious.

 


	13. With or Without Consequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! So turns out I'm back from the dead, here. That was a super long wait and I can't apologize enough, but I'm back and ready to finish off this story soon. So, as always, thanks for reading. It really means a lot!

If time could be described as still water, then it was the perfect platform for reflection. Lovino Vargas was staring into a bright lake, vast enough so that he could reflect on himself far more than he could handle, and nobody was making any moves to disturb the water.

Lovino had hardly said a word during the car ride home. His jaw felt too heavy to speak more than a few measly phrases. He just felt too tired.

They reached their destination several hours into the evening. The house he grew up in was still the same, complete with his doting grandfather, who had hugged him tighter than usual when he saw Lovino's somber expression. Lovino welcomed the gesture with a weak smile.

Feliciano helped him to bring his luggage up to his old room. Old boxes of things he'd left behind lined the wall, and his dresser was gone, but his twin-sized bed still lay waiting for him against the far wall. Had there always been stains on the other wall?

As he sat on the bed and his brother left the room, he stared down at the comforter they'd brought out of the storage closet. It had been his. He'd slept here for years, sat on it with a sketchbook filled to the brim with studies and odd sketches.

_ Dear Lovino, my best friend. _

How many times had Antonio sat here with him?

Every stray thought was trying to shove its way past one other into his mind, and it was giving him a headache. Antonio was his best friend. Antonio lived right next to him. Antonio lied to him. Antonio left him. Antonio, Antonio, Antonio. He wracked his brain for an explanation to a question he didn't even have, but all he ultimately thought was, _ why? _

"Lovi!" Fiorella shouted from downstairs. "Dinner's almost ready!"

Lovino suppressed a sigh. He wasn't all that hungry, but he knew he couldn't get away with not eating if his family had a say in it. On his way down the stairs he tried thinking of an excuse, but to no avail. It was unavoidable. At least he could take his mind off his situation for a while.

Fiorella and Lovino were sat at the dining table when he got down, and Fiorella made it a point to scoot her chair over to give more room for him. His designated seat was right between the two.

"So, Lovi," Feliciano started, "it's nice being back here together!"

He managed a simple smile. Maybe he wouldn't call it nice, but...familiar. Nonetheless, he still nodded and said, "Yeah."

His brother's smile brightened. He was very obviously trying to tread lightly around Lovino while still making a statement.

"Is he gonna be here soon?" Fiorella piped in.

"Oh, he's not getting here until after you've gone to bed, sweetheart," Feliciano replied. "But I'll make sure to wake you up early so you can see him first." Upon seeing Lovino's puzzled expression Feliciano answered his unspoken question. "Ludwig."

Lovino nodded absently. If he remembered correctly, Feliciano's husband had been on a business trip. Thinking about it, he hadn't seen the German man in a long time.

After his grandpa sat down with them and they said their grace, Lovino tried to occupy himself with food instead of conversation. He really wanted to talk to him, but he didn't think he could supply anything that would satisfy the old man's curiosity.

Of course, he was going to talk anyway.

"So, did you three have a good time together?" Nonno asked not halfway through dinner.

Fiorella nodded, speaking first. "I got to make food and see Guido!" she announced.

Nonno hummed thoughtfully. He'd never personally met Lovino's friend, but he'd heard many stories from him and Fiorella.

"Oh, and we got to paint together, didn't we?" Feliciano asked, smiling at her.

"We did that, too. I painted all over Tonio until he was covered in tomatoes!" She giggled at the memory, but Lovino saw his grandpa tense up. Even Feliciano winced, stabbing into his food a little too forcefully.

She didn't seem to notice, however, and continued her spiel on the things they did during their visit. Lovino could feel his grandpa's scrutinizing gaze never leaving his head, and it took all of his will to keep his own attention on his dinner. He still wasn't hungry.

"And then I got to-"

"Fiorella, dear, would you fetch me my reading glasses from the back?" the old man interjected, the softest smile on his face. It was the one he used for persuasion; it worked every time, to Lovino's knowledge.

She didn't waste a moment in skipping out of the dining room. In her absence, the air was filled with a heavy tension Lovino felt directed solely at him. Damn, he was uncomfortable.

The words came as he expected: "So, Lovino. You've been spending a lot of time with this man?" Disguised as innocent with the underlying tone of a serious question.

"I...was, yes," he replied monotonously. "I already know, so you don't need to try and lie to me anymore."

Their eyes met in an almost challenging stare as Nonno frowned. "There's no need to speak to me that way," he warned.

Lovino stabbed his fork into his food. "We don't need to talk about him, okay?"

"Maybe we do need to-"

"I  _ said _ we  _ don't _ !"

" _ Lovino. _ "

A twinge of guilt went through Lovino's heart. He didn't want to start taking out his frustration on his grandpa of all people.

Feliciano shuffled his feet and stared at the wall to the side. Lovino looked desperately to him, waiting for his usual interjection to lighten the mood. He always did that.

"Look at me," Nonno commanded. "Both of you."

Lovino dropped his fork with a light clatter while Feliciano plopped down obediently into the chair beside him.

"I don't know exactly what happened recently, but you are not leaving this table until we settle it." No other words followed, and Lovino cast a wary glance at his brother.

Feliciano was the one to speak first. "Antonio and Lovino found each other, but he didn't tell him  about back then. I tried helping him and I  _ told  _ him to tell him but he really didn't want to mess up and they were doing this contest and-"

Lovino cut him off. "And I found out from some schoolgirls because the bastard couldn't tell me to my face that he's known me since I was seven," he stated.

"Boys, please," Nonno said with a sigh. Lovino felt his somber eyes focus on him. "I'm sorry, Lovi, for not telling you about him sooner. I didn't think you'd ever…find out. None of us did."

Just then, Fiorella came skipping back to break the awkwardness between the three. "I found them!" she announced, producing the glasses to Nonno with a flourish.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Could you give us a few minutes?" he responded.

"Your books are in the room," Feliciano added. "Go pick one out so we can read it together, alright?" Fiorella scurried off once more, and the attention was back on Nonno.

Their grandfather had always tried his best to gently word the hurtful happenings in the world. Even when their parents died, he found the right words to soothe the boys into believing that life would be okay. Lovino only began to doubt him after the crash, when he could tell pieces of the story were missing. But now, from the look on his face, Lovino felt that he wasn't about to sugarcoat his words any more.

"Lovino," he said, "when you were in the hospital, I got a call from Antonio. It was only the one time, but all he did was apologize to me for…for doing that to you. I could barely speak, and I didn't get the chance to tell him that you were still alive." He nodded to Feliciano, who was staring down at the table. "Your brother knows that the doctors weren't sure if you would make it out of there or not. Even if I could have talked to him, I didn’t know if saying you were okay would have been true. I'm not sure he even wanted to hear what I had to say, because he hung up the phone and never called back."

A pause in the conversation sent Lovino's mind into a thousand directions. He didn't want to blame him for everything, but at the same time it was all he wanted to do. "Where did he go?" he demanded.

It was Feliciano that answered his question. "He had been saying that his family wanted to move back to Spain for a while. We all thought it was his mother being grumpy like always, but she was serious that time. She, uh, didn't really like us," he confessed. "So after Antonio got better, they took him away back to Madrid."

"And…and why wouldn't you just… _ tell _ me?" he choked out. All of his old emotions were nothing. What had Antonio gone through? "We could have told him I was okay!" Saying it, he thought he already knew the answer.

The other two exchanged a glance. "We didn't want to hurt either of you," Nonno said placidly. "I thought it was best for you to live your life without having to remind yourself of what happened. Even if I wanted to, Antonio sounded like he wanted to leave what he did in the past."

Lovino felt tears start to slip down his face. Was there even a reason? He could have been crying for his own sake or over Antonio, but if it was purely cathartic, he was none the wiser. All he could tell was that his chest was constricting and he was thinking that maybe they were right. He couldn't handle it. "You all still blame him," he pointed out.

"I'm not saying he was bad," Nonno jumped in again. "He was very close to this family, and I still think of him that way. But it was his decision to stay away, not mine. I don't know if it would have been wise for him to come back."

"Lovi?" Feliciano placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, all of his brotherly compassion evident in his voice. "I'm sorry for yelling at you before we left. But I still think you should give him a chance."

Wiping his face, Lovino didn't respond at first. He had too much to process, and what he really wanted was to sleep. It was starting to get late, so he picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen. "I'll see you both in the morning," he said, leaving them alone in the dining room.

* * *

 

Standing in a room surrounded by his brother's paintings, Lovino had to admit that Feliciano had done an amazing job finding a place to showcase his work. He made a mental note to remind Feliciano that he was proud of all he had accomplished in the past few years.

He was wandering the halls of the art gallery, thinking of nothing in particular and admiring whatever happened to catch his eye. Other artists contrasted his brother's style, of course, but he still found himself looping back around to check them once more. Fiorella ran past him several times, and he smiled and walked with her one of those times. Feliciano was easier to find, grinning from ear to ear with his hand in Ludwig's, whose pride seemed to rival Lovino's own. Still, he gave them their space.

It wasn't until he was resting on a bench that Lovino allowed his mind to go back to the previous day's conversation. Antonio was still shoving his way to the front of his thoughts, determined as ever to become his number one priority, and it was getting on his nerves more than anything. Decisions needed to be made, and soon. The final presentations for the contest was being held the following week, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to show. Of course, doing so would seal his confrontation with Antonio. Even after that, he would have to choose whether or not to continue speaking to him. On top of everything, he still hadn't even  _ started  _ on his final piece.

Lovino held back a groan. If art was  _ really _ supposed to hold some of the world's answers, why did it insist on only giving him a headache? Thinking about painting drained all of his energy, and being surrounded by artworks did little to improve his morale.

He nodded to several people who happened to glance his way. One woman smiled at him, which almost took him by surprise; another adult was genuinely sharing a simple smile that held no sadness or pity. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and sighed. The fact that he'd noticed that made him realize how messed up he'd been recently.

Doing another turn to view the gallery showed him that he had been sitting to the right of a rather large painting that scrawled across the wall. Swirls of a dark red snaked rhythmically through a sea of black, highlighted in grays. Off to the right of the painting the spirals grew more sporadic and mangled until they fused into a single, bright mass. Upon closer inspection, Lovino noted that the painting was simply entitled  _ Confusion _ .

"Of-fucking-course it is," he mumbled under his breath.

* * *

 

Back at their grandfather's home for the day, Lovino and Feliciano were making small talk about their old house. Ludwig was drinking coffee and watching his daughter chat with Nonno, occasionally pitching in a sentence or two. Their relaxed nature and his own fatigue were helping Lovino to wind down, if only a little.

"So Fio discovered the old treehouse a while back," Feliciano mentioned. A nostalgic smile graced his face. "I found her and one of her friends playing in it last time we were here. She kept asking about it, but I told her that you should be the one to tell her all about what it meant to us."

Lovino glanced in Fiorella's direction. She was as curious as ever, it seemed. Of course, he could tell that Feliciano mentioning this now was a quiet nudge to confront yet another part of his life Antonio had touched, but he was going to make the showing more about passing the place down to her rather than dwelling on the past. "Okay, I will," he finally said.

A light shone in his brother's eyes as Lovino moved to offer a hand to Fiorella. "I heard you wanted to talk about that treehouse out back. Still up for it?" he asked.

The little girl immediately hopped off of Nonno's lap, latching onto his hand with a squeal. "Yes, yes!" She ceased her bouncing when her father raised an eyebrow. "Oh, please," she added hastily.

Holding back a laugh, Lovino guided her to the front door. "We'll be back," he called over his shoulder.

Outside, a light breeze stirred Lovino fully awake. It was a nice day, with a few clouds and a clear view of the old wooden structure that used to act as Lovino's second home. He had to hold back a sigh; it still looked exactly the same.

"Was it yours?" Fiorella asked as they walked.

"It was partly mine," he replied. "It was also for your dad and Antonio." They reached the base of the tree, both looking up the ladder to the top. "We shared it."

Fiorella put both hands on the ladder, wonder alight in her eyes. "It's like a tiny house," she said. Craning her neck to meet Lovino's gaze, she hopped up a step. "Did you live here?" The way she whispered it like she was asking for a secret made him smile.

Lovino held her back and boosted her higher. "Sometimes I thought I did. I spent a lot of days drawing here, or taking a nap," he explained. "One time I even brought a pillow and blanket and spent the night because I didn't want to go home."

She giggled at that. Once she was up, she disappeared into the structure. Lovino hesitated outside, not sure what would await him inside their old clubhouse. He remembered staying there so often, not knowing quite why he felt so attached to it. He remembered sitting outside during his recovery, trying to draw out the memories he knew were hidden in there somewhere with his brush. That was the painting he gave to Antonio.

There was no point in keeping his niece waiting. Without another thought, Lovino hoisted himself up into the treehouse.

Inside, the wood creaked under his weight as he crouched down. Fiorella was examining the small book — it was the only one that still occupied the "bookshelf" — and flipping through the pages that were still in it.

"It says you wrote here last," she said. "Club meeting?" She looked up at him. "This was a club?"

Lovino laughed. "Yup. This was our clubhouse. We used to draw and play games and keep secrets from our parents," he said with a side smile and a wink, which she giggled at.

"That's bad, you know. Keeping secrets like that." She sat on his lap, dropping the book on the floor.

"What, you tell your dads everything you do?" he asked, lightly prodding her side.

Fiorella laughed, shying away from him. "Yeah!"

"Oh, yeah?" This time he used both hands, tickling her sides while she squealed out for him to stop. "You seem pretty suspicious to me!" he continued.

"Nooo, I'm not!" she replied through laughter.

Stopping himself from overdoing it, Lovino let go of her. "Well, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine," he stated. Much to his amusement, she plopped down to the floor and pouted up at him.

"Well…one time I broke a vase and said it was the dog," she admitted. "B-But that was last year! I told Blackie that I was sorry for blaming him."

Lovino hummed and nodded. "That's pretty serious. Next time you have to tell an adult, okay?" She nodded solemnly in agreement. "But," he continued, "you know what's great about the secret club?"

At that, she perked up once more. "What?"

"Just this once, I won't tell anyone. That secret stays in the treehouse," he said, all the old hush of playing spies returning to his voice. "Since you're the new owner of the club, and all."

Fiorella practically leapt from her spot. "I am?!" Her eyes had gone wide, and her mess of a hair was bouncing along with her as she hopped in place. "Woah! Can I go tell?" she questioned.

Lovino feared if she stayed up here, she'd fall out the door eventually, so he gave a quick nod. "Of course, go on ahead."

And just like that, she was already descending down the ladder. Lovino was looking around once more with the intent to follow her shortly after when he heard a deep voice outside and Fiorella's accompanying laughter.

He shuffled on his knees to the entrance, looking down to see Ludwig. He was standing directly under Lovino, with his daughter resting in his arms. How long had he been there?

As they talked, Lovino moved to dangle his legs over the side of the treehouse. When Ludwig finally put her down so she could run back to the house, neither him nor Lovino moved for a few moments.

"You gave her your treehouse?" the German finally asked. As usual, Lovino couldn't quite figure out his expression when he turned and backed up so that he was in view.

"Not like it was only mine in the first place," Lovino responded, hopping down to the ground. "What are you doing out here?"

He earned a shrug in response. "I haven't talked to you yet since I arrived," he said simply.

Lovino huffed a laugh. "You wanna talk about what happened, too? Let me guess, you knew Antonio and he's a great person. Did my brother tell you to say something like that?" His easier and fun mood had run off with Fiorella. A part of him felt bad about sounding so harsh, but it was too late to say anything else. Hell, this always happened.

"No, none of that," Ludwig responded, leaning against the tree. "I did know him, but only a little. We spoke a few times, and he brought Feliciano and I to dinner once." He smiled at that, which Lovino would have found shocking had he been talking about anything other than his brother.

They lapsed into a moment of silence once more. Lovino had always been terrible at talking to his brother-in-law, even if he sometimes tried. His brain was getting jumbled from hearing all the different sides to Antonio, from how everything was his fault to how he's great and he should just give him a  _ chance _ . Now even Ludwig couldn't leave him in peace?

"But I'm not here to tell you stories," Ludwig said, cutting off his thoughts. He stood up to his full height, his usual composure restored. "I just thought you should know that your brother made me bring back all of your old paintings that he took after your accident. They were actually taking up a lot of space in our attic." Lovino scowled at that. "But, since we're apparently giving out advice to you, I'll tell you what I think."

"Why would I want-"

"Just this once, Lovino." Ludwig sighed. "I won't say which way you're better off, because I don't know you or Antonio well enough. What I do know is that  _ you  _ know Antonio from the past few months. It's your responsibility to evaluate that time and decide which way you want to keep going. And don't let others tell you your answer."

Never had Lovino ever heard Ludwig speak any sort of real sentiment to him. Yet, somehow, his calculating thought process and advice were getting through to him far stronger than any that the rest of his family had served him so far. "I…" he trailed off. "Um, thanks." Was it really that easy, to step back and look at things objectively?

_ No, _ he thought,  _ not objectively. Realistically. _

Ludwig allowed a small nod. "That's all I wanted to say. I'll get your old paintings from the car whenever you want them," he said. And then he walked back to the house.

Lovino was still stuck in place. He'd been so caught up in his past,  _ their _ past, that he was failing to see beyond that broken teenager in a hospital bed. He couldn't tell for sure if Antonio had abandoned him intentionally, but he'd chosen to stay the second time, hadn't he? All that he knew was that he'd spend the rest of his life only guessing if he didn't confront him about it soon.

"He stayed the second time," he muttered softly, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to the sky. So much of his time recently was wasted on wondering if Antonio was a good person or not, which had to be one of the most ridiculous things he'd thought through. Who judged someone based on what they messed up on as a teenager? "Oh god, I'm such an  _ idiot _ !" He ran his hands through his hair, adrenaline rising. "I have to get back and get ready for the contest. Shit, what am I supposed to do if I can't get my own damn head out of the gutters?"

A thousand plans began running through Lovino's mind. He put away calling him — he knew he had to talk in person, however scared he was at the thought — and considered the possibility of meeting up before the final reveal day. But what if he refused to see him again after what happened? And there was still the problem with still not having a painting for it.

_ Wait. Painting. _

He knew what he was going to do.


	14. Final Results

It had occurred to Lovino not for the first time that he was an absolute mess as he gathered his things at home. He was continuously jittery, clumsily knocking things over and flitting from one menial task to the next without completing a single one.   
  
The final judging of the contest was that afternoon. It would also finally be time to confront Antonio. Truth be told, he still was unsure how he was supposed to say to him what he needed to.   
  
" _ Just speak your mind _ !" Feliciano had said. " _ He'll listen, I'm sure of it _ ."    
  
He would, wouldn't he?   
  
Lovino shook his head to dispel the thoughts. Overthinking it would be dangerous.   
  
The email he'd received from Bella several days prior reminded him of the time and place he needed to be. Checking his phone, he noted that that time was in three hours. He groaned, plopping onto his couch.   
  
"What if…I go early," he muttered to the empty air. It always listened, and it reliably never responded. A few beats passed, and he stood up.    
  
Showing up early wouldn't hurt.    
  
His final painting was already nestled in an old canvas bag. It wasn't very big, so it didn't need much in the way of extra space. It wasn't very much of anything, really, and yet it still supplied Lovino with a rush of emotions. Sighing, he gathered his keys and slung the bag over his shoulder with the hope that he wasn't forgetting anything; with his current state, he wouldn't have been surprised.   
  
He punched the location into his phone once he was in his car. It was actually the warehouse they had used earlier in the contest, but this time they were going to be outside, and, hopefully, nobody would be nude.   
  
During the drive, Lovino hummed along to the radio. He had no desire to look down and depressed in front of everyone, especially today, and keeping his emotions in check early on generally helped.   
  
After parking in the field behind the warehouse, Lovino was relieved that his nerves hadn't spiked when his feet hit the grass. Only a few others had already arrived, including Francis and who he assumed was Bella. They were chatting by a low-rising stage while the others were scattered about the grass. Lovino wasn't too sure who to talk to, or even if he  _ should _ talk to anyone, but Antonio wasn't anywhere to be seen. Somehow, he decided Francis was the next best option.   
  
"Hey," he started. "I don't know if I'm allowed to talk to you or anything now, but I will." He nodded in Bella's direction, and she said something briefly to Francis and went elsewhere.   
  
Francis brandished a dashing smile. "Of course. Why would I say no to that?" he practically cooed, which Lovino tried not to roll his eyes at.   
  
"Doesn't matter. You knew Antonio when he was a kid, yeah?"   
  
The question seemed to throw Francis off guard. "Well…yes, we met when we were younger."   
  
"Then you knew me, too," Lovino stated. "Just guessing. You knew about all that, didn't you?"   
  
Francis sighed, his eyes growing somber. "Alas, I was waiting with Gilbert that day for you two to arrive. We waited until near sundown before we found out," he lamented. "Lovino, I'm so sorry-"   
  
Lovino waved his hands quickly and shook his head with a hurried, "No, no, no, that's not what I was trying to get at." He chewed his lip for a brief moment. "I was gonna say, um…thank you. For keeping Antonio's secret, even if it was about me. I don't really remember you, but I can tell you're probably a good friend to him."    
  
In the beat of silence that followed, Lovino shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other, expecting Francis to say something. Instead, he found himself wrapped in the other man's arms.    
  
"Thank you," he said, his voice harboring all of his quiet relief. When he let go, Francis was donning a bright smile. "And, for the record, we were friends, too. Maybe soon we can make time for catching up," he suggested with a wink.    
  
Lovino crossed his arms with a scoff and a hint of a grin. "I was just trying to be nice, but you're getting real damn close to pushing it."   
  
"It's a fatal flaw of mine." Someone from afar called Francis' name. "That's me. I'll see your final piece during the presentations, no?" He began towards the stage. "Oh! And I hope you and our dear Tonio find it in yourselves to work things out."   
  
"Yeah…" Lovino trailed off. "I hope so, too."   
  
With a while left to kill, the empty seats looked very inviting. Maybe it was simply how Francis worked, but Lovino thought that the setup looked somewhat like an outdoor wedding venue. It was just missing flowers.   
  
He spent the better part of the next hour scrolling through his phone, texting back and forth with Feliciano some, and playing a game on an app Fiorella had downloaded on his phone for herself. His lack of sleep, however, began pulling his eyelids shut not long after, and he found himself dozing off in the chair.    
  
A light tap on his cheek jolted him awake, startling the person who woke him. Dazed, he half expected to hear Antonio laugh it off and remind him to sleep at home. But it was Toris, who was now nervously rubbing the back of his neck.   
  
"Um, I-I think they need us all together over there," he said, glancing to the side. Sure enough, the other artists were in a close circle off to the side of the stage, though Alfred and Arthur were nowhere to be seen.   
  
Lovino stretched his arms above his head with a yawn. "Fine, I'll be there in a second."    
  
Toris offered a tentative smile and a nod before heading back. Lingering for a few moments longer, Lovino took notice of the small crowd that had gathered during his nap. He assumed it was mostly friends and family of the others, because he doubted that many outsiders really cared about the event.   
  
Still, he didn't see Antonio just yet. Lovino sighed; his worries about the possible awkwardness were gone, and he just wanted him to be there soon. There wasn't any point in delaying the inevitable, after all.   
  
The group was listening to Bella and Francis about their presentations when Lovino joined them. "I'm sure you all have something amazing to show us," Bella was saying, "so show us that you're proud when you go to present!" That earned her a few murmurs in response and only a few actual words of thanks. They were  _ all _ awkward as hell, weren't they?   
  
When the final seats were filled, Lovino scanned the crowd once more, only this time he spotted Antonio's mess brown of hair among the group. His heart lurched at the sight, and he instinctively ducked behind the other competitors, turning his gaze to the ground to steady himself.   
  
"Lovino? Are you okay?"    
  
Lovino's head snapped up at the voice. It was just Elizabeta.   
  
"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," he assured, though his voice didn't sound as convincing as it did in his head.   
  
She smiled sympathetically. "Public speaking? I know it can be rough, but really, it's just a formality. I'm sure they won't judge you on how well you can talk," she said.   
  
Of course, that hadn't been his worry, but hearing her say it brought him a bit of relief, and he felt a laugh escape him. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."   
  
They both turned when Francis spoke up from the stage. He and Bella each had a microphone connected to a small speaker off to the side. "Good evening, my fine ladies and gentlemen," he said in his usual smooth-talk voice. "Thank you very much for being here today. Our contest is drawing to a close, but these talented artists have made it a worthwhile ride."   
  
Bella stepped forward. "Yes, they have! And, as this is their final works to be judged, we're letting them present them on their own for all of you," she explained. "It won't take long, and we'll announce the winner shortly after the last person presents. First up, we have Toris and Feliks."   
  
As the crowd welcomed them onto the stage, Lovino realized that he was going to have to go up alone. Antonio didn't look to be particularly interested in being there, so why was he even here in the first place?   
  
He only hoped that he could talk to him after it was done.   
  
An easel was situated on the left side of the stage, where Toris carefully placed his canvas. Lovino couldn't see it very well from his viewpoint, but Feliks certainly looked pleased at his spot as the subject of it.   
  
After them went Roderich and Elizabeta, who stood and spoke politely through their explanations. Roderich allowed Elizabeta to do most of the talking, standing poised and yet donning a disgruntled frown. Lovino thought it was a bit strange.   
  
They walked down the steps and past him with their painting. Lovino's eyes traced them walking towards the warehouse as he wondered about Roderich's mannerisms.   
  
"Hey, I think they're calling you."   
  
"Huh?"   
  
Everyone else was deathly quiet. Francis was standing on the other side of the stage, beckoning him forward with a nervous smile. Lovino felt his face flush red and gathered his painting out of its bag. Holding it to his chest, he stumbled up the steps and froze center-stage. "Um…" The crowd stared up curiously at him. Antonio looked down.   
  
"O-Oh, right. Hello, I'm Lovino. Vargas. Lovino Vargas," he began. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, the crowd was simply that—a crowd.   
  
"I'll admit that I didn't prepare anything specific to say. Shit, I didn't really think I'd be here, today. But, um…here I am. It's just me up here, which I guess is weird, but I can make do.   
  
"My subject actually isn't here. In truth, I haven't seen him in a really, really long time," he said, earning a sudden sharp look of confusion from Antonio. Lovino turned his attention back to the people as a whole. "We used to be close friends, actually. Maybe one day I'll see him again, or maybe I won't, but I hope I can." He gripped the painting tighter around its sides.   
  
While everyone stared, Lovino placed his painting on the easel. It was the first portrait he'd ever painted. "This is…this is my model, Antonio. He's a little annoying and can't take a hint, but he was sixteen at the time, so I guess I can't blame him. I wasn't much better."   
  
Lovino took another deep breath while trying to mask his faint laughter. "I painted this ten years ago when I was going through a rough time in my life. I wouldn't admit it at the time, but he was a sort of solid ground for me, and I knew he couldn't be there every time I needed him, so I had the idea that I could paint him and have him there in a different way. By the way, I remember almost none of this, but that's what I've pieced together from what I  _ do _ remember and what my brother told me."   
  
A few people laughed at that. "Yeah, it's been a little crazy," he said. "And this is one of the pieces that I had titled, apparently, which I almost never do." Finally, he snuck another glance at Antonio. Their eyes met, and Lovino stayed locked in his stare as he spoke again. "It's called  _ Truly an Artist _ ." Half of a grin found its way onto his face, and Antonio shared the look with him.   
  
"So, yeah. That's about it," he finished. "I'll get off the stage now, so thanks for coming."    
  
As the crowd applauded, Lovino felt his confident high leave his body through a sigh. He'd said everything he could think of in the moment.    
  
Lovino moved to stand off quietly with the others, hardly listening to Natashya or Katyusha speak. His head was swimming, and he had to focus on the feeling of the breeze to keep his eyes from wandering. A pat on his shoulder made him realize they were finished.   
  
"You did really well on that painting!" Elizabeta said. "I didn't know you had been painting him for that long."   
  
"Yeah, I didn't, either." She gave him a puzzled look. "Long story," he simply said.   
  
The people in the crowd were now mostly standing and chatting, with the exception of a few on their phones and a certain Spaniard sitting alone near the back. Lovino mustered up the remains of his courage and strode over, seating himself in the chair next to him.   
  
"Hey," Lovino said softly.   
  
Antonio spared him a small smile. "Hey. I'm sorry I wasn't up there with you."   
  
"It's fine."   
  
Neither could hold eye contact for a few moments. Lovino shook his leg and bit the inside of his cheek. "I'm sorry that I…didn't tell you about the painting." Antonio smiled wider.   
  
"You know, I remember when you painted that," he said coyly.    
  
Lovino blinked in surprise, sitting taller in the chair. "You do?" he asked.   
  
Antonio leaned back in his own chair. "I think so. You had shut yourself in your room for, what? Two weeks, maybe? I broke up with my girlfriend, wanted to make sure you were okay, and almost forced my way into your room." Nostalgia danced in his eyes. "I think you didn't want me seeing it, but you had left it lying out. That was an eventful day," he finished.   
  
Despite his efforts, Lovino felt his face heat up. "Oh. So it wasn't that much of a surprise, huh?"   
  
"Are you kidding?" Antonio's eyes went wide. "I didn't expect any of that. Of course, I think you're an amazing artist-"   
  
"Oh, shut up."   
  
"It's true!"   
  
They shared a laugh, but then Lovino's smile slowly faded. "Hey, Antonio…"    
  
An unspoken question passed between them. Just as Antonio opened his mouth to speak, Lovino cut him off.   
  
"No, no, I need to ask you out loud. We need to talk about this."   
  
With the somber look that broke Lovino's heart, Antonio nodded. "Could we go somewhere else?" he asked.   
  
Talking out of the way of the crowd sounded nice, so Lovino agreed. Together they moved to the shade of a large tree that stood beside the wall of the warehouse.    
  
When he was sure they had enough privacy, Lovino turned back to face Antonio. "Why didn't you tell me, Antonio? About knowing me, about what you did...and why didn't you come back?"   
  
Antonio rubbed at his forearm, quiet again. "You know, Lovi," he said, "I wanted nothing more than to see you again. After I…I did that to you, I lost all of my self-confidence. I didn't want to do anything, go anywhere, go on with living my life. It was the hardest thing to admit to myself that you couldn't be in my life anymore." He paused, closed his eyes, and leaned against the tree. "But I also couldn't stand the idea that I was the one who did it. That I  _ killed _ someone." He hardly managed to choke out the words. All Lovino could do was stare.   
  
"Lovino, they told me you didn't make it," he said, and wet tears began to escape him. "My parents wouldn't tell me how you were doing in the hospital, and as soon as I was okay enough, we moved back to Spain." He opened his eyes and looked right into Lovino's own, and Lovino held his breath. When Antonio spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.   
  
"Then you appeared again, and it was like seeing a ghost come back from the dead."   
  
A heartbeat passed, and then two, and then Lovino forgot to count. Everything Antonio had used as a barrier those eight years came crumbling to the ground, and Lovino reached over the remains to lay a hand on his arm.    
  
"Antonio," he breathed. "You don't…you didn't…" He sighed. "Fuck, I don't know what to say."   
  
Antonio managed a laugh, thought it was a mirthless sound. "You don't need to. You never did. It was my fault, and I lied to you all that time," he said.   
  
"I know."   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"I  _ know _ it was your fault, now. And yeah, I was mad for a while. I'm sure you were, too," he explained. He took in a shaky breath. "But, you know…I forgive you."   
  
Speaking it released the tension in the air, and a fresh wave of tears ran down Antonio's cheeks. "Lovino...Thank you. I never thought I'd get to hear that."   
  
Their moment was cut short by Bella announcing that the winner had been chosen. "We should probably go back, I guess," Lovino said.   
  
Antonio wiped away his remaining tears. "Wait, wait. Before we go, do you think we could maybe…start over?" he asked.   
  
A small smile broke out on Lovino's face. "Don't see why not."   
  
In all the years they'd known each other, Lovino and Antonio had met twice. The first time was the beginning of fun, of imagination and a deep friendship. The second time was by chance, and laden with difficult secrets and heartbreak. Lovino was determined to make this one the last one they needed.   
  
"I guess this is our third meeting, yeah? Alright, then." He cleared his throat loudly and reached out his hand for Antonio to take. A new tether, rekindling a fire after learning the wrong ways it could be done.   
  
"My name is Lovino Vargas."   
  
Without hesitation, Antonio took Lovino's hand in his. "Antonio Fernández Carriedo."   
  
When they both found their seats once more, Bella was preparing to announce the results. "It was a very tough decision," she said, "but after evaluating the collective works, we've come to a decision."   
  
"What's the prize, again?" Antonio whispered.    
  
"I think it was cash," Lovino replied.   
  
Truth be told, Lovino was a little nervous. He didn't expect to win, really, but the prospect of it made him a bit excited. Antonio lightly squeezed his hand; he seemed just as nervous.   
  
"And the winners are…Natashya and her model, Katyusha!"   
  
The crowd applauded, and Lovino let go of the tension in his shoulders with a sigh. Antonio shrugged with a grin. "Oh, well. I still think you won!"   
  
Lovino bit back a laugh. "Why, because all of them are portraits of you?" he suggested.   
  
"Maybe so," Antonio said with a wink.   
  
"Idiot."   
  
The two winners walked up the stage with happy smiles. They said a few words of thanks, shook Francis' and Bella's hands, and rejoined the crowd. Francis gave a closing statement that Lovino forgot to pay attention to, and then the contest was finally, officially over.    
  
Antonio stood up with a yawn. "Well, I guess that wasn't what we were hoping for, but it was still a fun experience. Sort of," he added.   
  
"Hm, yeah." Lovino followed his lead, yawning after him. "You know, aside from almost everything in the middle. And you're an awful model," he joked.   
  
"What?" Antonio gasped. "How could you?"   
  
Lovino lightly shoved his arm. "You never sit still," he said.   
  
Antonio huffed a laugh. "Fair enough. Oh, I didn't get to say hi to Francis!"   
  
Just as he spoke his name, Francis rested his arm on Antonio's shoulder. "Such a crime! You're forgetting about me now, too?"   
  
Antonio's eyes flitted to Lovino for a moment. "I don't think he could forget you, even if I could," Lovino said.    
  
"You're right," Francis said, "it's nearly impossible to forget this face. Lovino, darling,  _ you _ managed the impossible."   
  
He brandished his signature smile and stood taller. "Really, though, congratulations to the both of you. I would have let you win if I could," he assured. "But I must take my leave, now. There are all of these rented things to return."   
  
"If you'd like, I can help with-"   
  
"No, no!" Francis said, pressing a finger lightly to Antonio's lips. "You two lovebirds need to spend time together again. And you, clueless Tonio, still owe it to me and Gilbert to finish that day, even if it's without us."   
  
Lovino wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to, but Antonio's face was flush with embarrassment. "Aw, Francis, don't put me on the spot like that!" he whined.   
  
Francis winked in response. "Too late, I'm afraid. I'll be seeing you two another day!" And with that, he walked off to the warehouse.   
  
"What was that about?" Lovino asked.   
  
Antonio laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was supposed to be a romantic thing with music and scenery, but…is it okay if I ask you on a date? I feel like it's a weird time, and I don't really know if we're  _ starting over _ , starting over, but I swear I don't just like you from back then, and-"   
  
" _ Antonio _ ."   
  
He shut up. "Yeah, it's okay," Lovino said. "Of course I'd go on a date with you, dumbass."   
  
With a renewed light in his features, Antonio smiled wider. "Of course. Silly me, right?"    
  
They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, unsure of what to do next, until Antonio spoke up again.   
  
"Can I kiss you?"   
  
"That took you too long to ask."   
  
In the next instant, Lovino had taken Antonio's face into his hands and pulled him into a kiss. He was warm and comfortable, and Lovino melted into him as Antonio pulled him closer with an arm around his waist. When their lips parted, Lovino watched Antonio's eyes sparkle. It was the moment Lovino fully realized that he wanted to love him until his final breath. They still had a lot to discuss, but he wanted to make it work.   
  
"So, what do you want to do?" Antonio asked, his arms still around Lovino.   
  
He paused. "Anything but art."   
  
They laughed together, leaning back into a soft embrace. "Fine by me," Antonio agreed.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? One more chapter, you say? Oh boy, what could it possibly be? Nah, I think you all know what it is. Really though, I'd like to give all my thanks to you amazing readers out there who put up with my nonexistent updating schedule and stuck with me for however long you've been reading this. This was my first fanfiction, and it's been an awesome experience writing it and talking with you all about it (I literally have several new wonderful friends because of this??). So thank you all, and I'll have the last part up relatively soon!


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